


The Riders

by JenLionheart



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Accents are fucking hard to write, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Daryl Dixon Needs a Hug, F/M, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Pack Feels, Sexual Content, Shy Daryl, Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters, Swearing, Violence, Virgin Daryl Dixon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:16:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22722316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenLionheart/pseuds/JenLionheart
Summary: "Some say the world will end in fire,Some say in ice.From what I've tasted of desireI hold with those who favor fire.But if it had to perish twice,I think I know enough of hateTo know that for destruction iceIs also greatAnd would suffice."- Robert Frost
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	1. Then

**Author's Note:**

> "Some say the world will end in fire,  
> Some say in ice.  
> From what I've tasted of desire  
> I hold with those who favor fire.  
> But if it had to perish twice,  
> I think I know enough of hate  
> To know that for destruction ice  
> Is also great  
> And would suffice."
> 
> \- Robert Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where my main character's story begins. Basically an introduction of the people I will be including into the walking dead world. No Daryl in this chapter, but he will be in the next one, and the one after that, and the one after that again.. :)

" _In a perfect world.."_ people would say, then go on to describe _their_ version of paradise on Earth or whatever. Some glorified Eutopia where everyone was happy, healthy and safe. No wars, no disease, no poverty. All sunshine and daisies every goddamn day.

But the world was never perfect. Mainly because _we_ were never perfect. Humans have caused more death and destruction than any other living thing on this forsaken planet. We have stolen, cheated, lied, killed, raped, tortured, and even bombed entire countries.. We cut down the trees, killed off several species of animals, blasted the mountains, and polluted the air, water, soil and everything in between. Humans were simply _destructive_ by nature.

Even the greatest scientific minds of all time couldn't solve our...-Let's call it "behavioral issues".. So they decided to screw with our biology instead..

In the early 1930s the Government sanctioned a new branch of medical research intended to _improve_ humanity. Scientists, doctors and geneticists were brought in from all over the world. Their experiments resulted in what we now refer to as _The Change_. 

The Change was basically selective evolution on speed. Human engineering at its finest. We evolved rapidly. The new and improved genes spreading like wildfire across all continents until eventually we were 98% of the population. What should have taken thousands, if not _millions_ of years of natural evolution, took less than a hundred.

In hindsight, we should have known that it would come back to bite us in the ass..

The Change made us faster, stronger, more agile. Our senses were sharpened, our immune systems more resilient, our lifespans increased. But it didn't affect everyone in the exact same way..

Outwardly, we weren't really that different from before. More athletic perhaps, but other than that only our eyes seemed to have been affected by The Change.

At a certain age, we would start producing various chemicals and pheromones that set of a chain reaction in our bodies. Puberty essentially. For some reason this also affected the pigmentation in our irises. Heightened emotion, pain or fear would bring it out. And which color your eyes were then came to mean something as our knowledge and understanding of The Change grew.

There were three distinct colors; Red, Blue and Gold. Each color signified specific skills and abilities. And soon this new _breed_ of humans were divided into three sub-groups; Alpha, Beta and Omega.

Betas were the most common. Capable, sturdy, hardworking. They were more levelheaded. Less likely to be ruled by emotions or instinct. Blue eyes.

Omegas were "affectionately" known as the _Breeders_. Mainly because of their extremely high fertility, sweet disposition and nurturing nature. They were usually homemakers, healers or caretakers of children and the elderly. Gold eyes.

Alphas however, were the ones most strongly affected by The Change. Unmatched in speed, strength and agility. They were best of the best, but also the most dominant and aggressive. They were natural born leaders, soldiers and providers. Red eyes.

With The Change came also a kind of heightened pack-mentality. Not to say that humans weren't already pack-animals, but after The Change it intensified exponentially.

Packs were most often ruled by an Alpha or an Alpha pair. They were the Patriarchs and Matriarchs of the group. The ones expected to lead in all matters. Alphas were highly respected, valued for their strength and skill. 

One such Alpha was Special Forces Officer, Captain Billie Ann Mitchell.

Female Alphas were _rare._ Even rarer than the elusive male omega. Some people didn't even think they existed. That they were just a myth. Mostly dumbass neanderthals that still thought of women as the _weaker_ sex and therefore female Alphas simply _couldn't_ be real.. 

Billie tried not to take it personally. Ever since she presented as an Alpha at the age of 13, she had met more than her fair share of misogynists, purists and ignorant pricks. As her father, the General, would say; "God must really love idiots, because he sure makes a lot of them".

She never gave much credence to the whole Alpha, Beta, Omega thing anyway. The way she saw it, the world consisted of four kinds of people; The dreamers, the builders, the protectors, and the fuckers who wanted to tear it all down. Designation had very little to do with that..

No, the world was never perfect. But at least it was ours. Now though, now it belonged to _them_..

The world as we knew it ended on a Thursday. Not all at once, of course. Nothing is ever that simple. It started small, with mostly rumors of some unknown disease sweeping through the country, killing dozens, then hundreds..

Rumors soon turned into news reports about how this deadly virus was seemingly turning people into violent cannibals or some shit like that. None of it made any sense..

Warnings were issued, both State and Federal. Warnings like; "Stay inside", "Avoid big cities", "If infected, report to Quarantine areas without delay"..

Naturally, people were terrified. And scared people do stupid shit..

Riots broke out in the streets. People were looting shops, throwing rocks and setting cars on fire. It was absolute chaos. But the real shitshow was still ahead. That's when the dead joined in on the riots..

The local law enforcement was quickly overwhelmed. How could they not be? None of them were trained for this kind of shit. After all, shoplifters and jay walkers didn't normally try to _eat_ you..

And so the Army was called in.. Hell, they called in everyone. Even off-duty personnel, trainees and veterans. It was an all hands on deck situation, and nobody got a free pass..

Billie was in the thick of it, trying to take back some semblance of control over the major cities while herding people towards designated Safe Zones. It was madness.. Downtown Atlanta didn't even look much like a town anymore. There were burning vehicles, broken glass and trash everywhere, not to mention all the bodies.. Billie felt the pieces of glass crunch under her boots as she walked around the pick-up area where they were shipping off survivors and fending off the infected.

"Get those civvies on the bus, and check them for bites!" she ordered her men as a new group of people came running towards them with a growing number of 'Biters' stumbling after them. "Shit" she muttered under her breath and reloaded her AK-47 before taking aim at the unwanted tail of the group. She learned early on to go for the brain. Headshots seemed to be the only way to take these fuckers down.

One by one they dropped under her well practiced assault. She could hear her men in the background, guiding the survivors on to the bus while checking each one for any signs of infection. 

There was only a handful of soldiers left at this point. The city was lost. All they could do was try and get as many civilians out of dodge as possible before they too would be forced to retreat. They had lost contact with the base a few hours earlier, and Billie tried not to let her worry show. She didn't want her men to see how scared she actually was. Because the fact was that they were in deep shit. If all the reports were true then there wouldn't be any kind of government for much longer. And if the Military fell as well, then humanity was pretty much screwed..

As the bus took off with the survivors, Nate, her second in command came up beside her with a grim expression on his otherwise handsome face. He was a big man, so big that most assumed him to be an Alpha at first glance. But his Beta blue eyes showed otherwise. "That's the last one, Captain" he tells her in his deep, gruff voice. His slight accent giving away his Hispanic background. She nods in acknowledgement, but keeps her eyes focused on their surroundings. 

"What's the plan?" Nate asks while shouldering his rifle. The weapon looked almost small slung next to his enormous arms. But then again, so did most things..

Billie frowned as she thought of her next move. They could make another sweep of the city, see if there was any more survivors. But it was pretty overrun by now, and there was so few of them left. They'd already lost four men just in the past 24 hours..

"We check the immediate area one last time, the inner city is too dangerous now.. Then we head back to base, see if there's anyone left standing" she decides after a moment of deliberation. Nate grunts a reply, then rounds up what's left of their unit, which wasn't much..

There's Ray from Indiana, a recent transfer that none of them really know that well. Then there's Jackson and Ollie, twin brothers from Georgia. And the last two are Derek, their field medic from Oklahoma, and Meghan, their com's specialist. Billie had asked her once where she was from, and Meghan had just shrugged and said; "All over". Whatever that meant..

They spread out, two by two, with Billie up front leading the way. Her sharp eyes scanning for movement as they made their final sweep amongst the wreckage of this once vibrant city. She didn't hold much hope of finding any more people. Any _living_ people at least. The stench of death and decay was too heavy in the air for her to think otherwise.

But they still looked. Looked and found nothing. Nobody but the dead.. They took out as many as they could without wasting too much ammo. It's what they were trained to do. Identify the threat and remove it. It was second nature to them. 

After another hour of fruitless searching she decided to call it off, and turned her unit around, back towards their vehicles. The city was a lost cause, they all knew it. Orders be damned.. With still no word from the base, Billie was getting increasingly worried. Sudden radio silence usually only meant one of three things these days; Hiding, running or dead. 

With her father, the General, in charge, it was highly unlikely that they were hiding. Which left only two options. Running could explain the loss of contact, but she couldn't really imagine the General abandoning the base. He was far too stubborn and proud. But she didn't want to imagine the last option.. 

As they turned the corner the cars came into view, but that wasn't the only thing they could see..

A man was limping around the vehicles, seemingly checking the doors and looking inside the windows. It was an older man, she could tell by the greying halflong curls that decorated the man's head. Raising her gun, Billie fired off a few warning shots, and the man quickly ducked behind one of the cars. 

She growled in annoyance. Whether he was trying to snatch their gear or steal their ride, she didn't know. But at this point she didn't really give a fuck. She wasn't about to let some dumbass screw them over, they had enough problems, damn it.

"Don't shoot!" he yelled, and Billie halted her approach. Her frown turning deeper, because that voice sounded awfully _familiar_ somehow. "Identify yourself!" she calls to him, letting some of her Alpha power bleed into her demand. There was a long pause. Then the man replies; ".. _Billie_? Shit, is that you, girl?". Recognition flickers behind her eyes as she's finally able to place why that voice was so familiar to her. " _Mac_?"

The man pokes his head out from behind the cover of the car, sharp blue-grey eyes squinting at her. His hair had gotten ridiculously long since she last saw him, but she'd recognize that glare anywhere, and she lowers her gun with a bemused expression on her face.

"What the Hell are you doing here? I thought you were retired?" she calls to him as she shoulders her rifle and walks towards him. He snorts and straightens up, wincing at strain on his bad knee. "I got recalled. Truck crapped out on me on my way to base. What's your excuse?" he quips easily, causing the left corner of her mouth to twitch. "Orders" she shrugged, knowing he'd understand. 

Billie had known Mac since she was around 15 years old. He was like an Uncle to her. Mac was one of the General's most loyal Betas until he retired two years earlier, due to an old war-injury. Tiny piece of shrapnel, that was deeply embedded inside Mac's knee. It had been one of those injuries where surgery would have made it worse instead of fixing it, so they left it in. Still took him ten years to retire, though, the stubborn ass..

"Clearing out the dead?" he asked, taking notice of well armed they all were. Her unit looked like they could fight a war all on their own. Billie shook her head minutely. "Evacuating civilians" she explained simply, and he cocked an eyebrow at her. "Since when does Special Forces do crowd control?" he mused out loud, making her huff lightly through her nose. "Since the General told us to" she said, her tone leaving no doubt as to what she thought of those particular orders. 

Mac hums in reply, thoughtful expression taking over his weary features. His gaze flicks idly over each member of her unit, nodding sharply at Nate, whom he recognizes. 

"I've been tryin' to reach the old man, but nobody's pickin' up.." he says quietly, turning his attention back to the Alpha in front of him. Billie used to think it was funny how Mac tends to refer to her father as the "old man" when in reality, he wasn't that much younger than him. Then again, they always talked shit to and about each other, but never failed to have the other's back when it counted. The two men had been through several wars together, and were more like brothers than either of them cared to admit. They'd had a slight falling out when Mac retired, but Billie never really knew why. If they made it out of here, then maybe she'd ask.

"Ya heard from him?" he asks her, and Billie's frown and light headshake answer him long before her words do. "We lost contact five hours ago" she confirms with a sigh. "We're headed there now. You want a ride?" she adds after a moment. Mac nods, worry starting to edge into his eyes. It was one thing for the General to ignore Mac, but he'd never ignore his daughter. "Yeah, reckon I still owe him a visit" he says jokingly, even though his expression is serious. 

The rest of her unit starts gathering around them as they briefly discuss which route to take. Not all of the roads were cleared, and the last thing they wanted was to get stuck on a highway with a herd of biters stumbling around. They had a lot of equipment in the cars, and there was no way they were going to leave any of it behind unless forced to do so.

Ray, surprisingly, draws up a useable route on the map with ease. One that Billie instantly agrees with, making her feel more confident in their ability to reach the base quickly. "Nice work, Ray" she compliments him and gives him a light pat on the back.

Behind them, Nate is unlocking the cars and pokes his head inside one, only to emerge again with another AK, tossing it to Mac, who catches it easily. "Still know how to use one?" Nate teases lightly. The older man chuckles as he expertly ejects the mag, checking to see if it's full before slapping it back in. His hands are familiar and sure as he reacquaints himself with the weight and feel of the weapon. "Like ridin' a bike" Mac drawls easily. Nate smirks, which Billie knows is his way of showing approval, but the whole display still makes her roll her eyes.

"Alright, people, let's get this show on the road" she tells them sternly, counting heads as they all climb into their vehicles. It's an old habit, taking notice of everyone's position and making sure all are accounted for. Part of the whole 'Leave no man behind' mantra that's ingrained into every soldier's brain. 

Mac's riding up front with her, and already fidgeting with the radio, trying in vain to find a working station. Meghan and Derek are in the back, quietly talking to each other. Ray and the twins are riding with Nate, who will no doubt follow closely behind Billie, letting her lead the way as usual. Satisfied, she starts the engine and begins the 2 hour long journey back to base. 

As they were rolling along in their Humwees, Billie couldn't shake the sense of dread that was steadily building in her gut the closer they got to their destination. Nobody knew what was waiting for them at the army base, but after the shit she'd seen in the past week or so, she doubted it was anything good..

In the first 24 hours after the outbreak, their orders had been to _contain_ the infected, not kill them. They lost a lot of good men that day.. The General had been furious, if it had been up to him the use of lethal force would have been authorized within the first 24 _minutes_. But he was overruled by the Pentagon. Billie had been just as pissed off, being ordered to only use rubberbullets, stunners and fucking teargas. As you might imagine, it had absolutely no effect on Biters. They just kept coming, kept killing..

As a result, she had been forced to watch so many brave men and women die horrible deaths. These were experienced soldiers, some of the best she'd ever known, one by one falling prey to these _things_..

Because that's what they are, _things_ , creatures.. Billie had known that even then..

The first time she came face to face with a Biter, she knew she wasn't looking at a _sick_ human being. It was half eaten for fucks sake, and yet it was still moving! Crawling towards her, groaning and growling, trying to take a bite out of her legs. How the Hell were they supposed to _contain_ this shit?? She had radioed in to her father then, telling him in no uncertain terms; "These things ain't sick! They're fucking dead! Dead and walking. I repeat, Sir; The dead are walking!"...

Mac finally gives up on the radio with a low curse, which abruptly brings Billie back into the present moment.

She shakes her head and blinks rapidly, trying to erase the horrific images in her mind and refocus on the road ahead. Driving on autopilot is never a good idea, but at least she hadn't run them off the road or anything, she thinks to herself. Regaining her bearings, she realises that they're roughly halfway there.

Soon they'll know whether or not the base is still standing, and if the General's alive or not.. Billie tightens her fingers around the steering wheel to stop her hands from shaking. Normally she was stone cold on missions, famously so even. But this was different.. This was _her_ base, _her_ father, and quite possibly the fucking end of the world.. 

Doomsday-scenarios had been part of her training. She had been taught what to do in case certain events should occur. Anything from natural disasters and bio warfare to fucking alien invasion. But no one had trained her for this. No one had taught her what to do if the dead started walking around _eating_ people.. This was way above her paygrade.

The light was fading fast as they approached the base, and nobody was happy about it. Alphas could see pretty well in the dark, but her Betas sure as Hell couldn't, and it was yet another thing to worry about. But that worry soon had to take a back seat to the terror hitting her in the face as they spotted the smoke rising from the base..

"Well that ain't a good sign.." Mac drawls uneasily from beside her, and she wants to smack him for stating the obvious. But instead she shifts gears and steps on the gas, flooring it. 

The gates were blown to pieces, with debris scattered everywhere. It looked like a damn tanks had plowed through it, which might actually be the case for all she knew. Smoke was billowing out from some of the larger buildings within the complex, and she could see more than a few Biters stumbling around. But she could also hear shots being fired, thank God! Someone was still alive and kicking in here, and Billie aimed to keep it that way. She was out and moving before the car had even come to a full stop. 

"Billie!" she heard Mac yell, but she paid it no mind as she drew one of the pistols from her hip and started taking down Biters left and right, clearing a path for the rest of her unit to follow. Her eyes shining a bright red as she went. "Damn it, Bee.." Mac grumbled as he grabbed his gun and hopped out of the car, intent on hobbling after her. Derek and Meghan close behind as Nate and the others pulled up beside them, getting out as well.

"What the Hell is she doing?" Ray asks as he grabs his gear from the back of the car. Nate huffs in angry exasperation. "She's doing her Lone Alpha shit again. Let's back her up before she bites over more than she can chew" he instructs, stepping over corpses while loading his gun. 

All Alphas are territorial by nature. Their homes were like sacred ground, and any trespassers or acts of vandalism was met with violence. Territorial disputes between packs were common, and often deadly. But Billie didn't own a house. She'd enlisted as soon as she came of age, just like her father and brothers had before her. And so most of her time was spent on missions or training new recruits. The army base was the closest thing she had to a _home_.

Finding it like this had set her off, and Nate knew it. But he also knew that his Alpha had impeccable control. Lesser Alphas would let their instincts rule their heads, protective rage blinding them to their surroundings. But Billie was always sharp as a tack, steady and focused, even under heavy fire. So he wasn't as much _concerned_ as he was annoyed about being left to catch up. _Again_. 

Up ahead, Billie was gaining speed as she closed in on where she believed the shots had been coming from. It had long since gone quiet again, but she had heard enough earlier to give her a sense of which direction to go. 

The whole complex looked like it had been under siege. Smoke, debris and bulletholes decorating most of the buildings and abandoned vehicles. Whatever had gone down here, it was clear that it had been one hell of a fight.. 

' _Should have been here'_ she thought to herself as she spotted yet another dead soldier on the ground, head blown to pieces and fucking _chewed_ on.. 

In the end it was the Biters who told her where the living was. Why else would so many of them be bunched together, pawing and slobbering all over the entrance to the old Command center?

It was a large concrete building, which she noted looked mostly intact. It gave her hope that her father might still be alive, because this is where he would be. At the helm, barking orders. As usual.

She counted at least twenty heads, too many for her to take out on her own. She didn't have enough bullets left. But as she heard the sounds of combat boots fast approaching, she realized that she didn't have to. She had backup.

It was hard to combat the instinct to just plough ahead and fight her way inside. Her inner Alpha screaming at her to defend her territory, kill the intruders. But she held firm, waiting for her unit to catch up.

Looking over her shoulder, she signaled them to keep quiet as they got closer, nodding towards the small herd ahead. They spread out a little, taking up strategic positions around their Alpha, just as they'd been trained to do. Soon as she saw that they were all in place, she put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

As the Biters turned their dead, hungry eyes towards them, Billie smirked and raised her gun. "Fire!" she ordered, and bullets instantly went flying. 

Watching the dead suckers drop to the ground like sacks of potatoes was immensely satisfying, if not slightly anticlimactic. But in times like these, she'd take any win she could get.

Nate was giving her a look that told her he wasn't too happy with her having gone ahead without them, but she ignored it. He could yell at her later if he wanted to, she had more pressing concerns right now.

"We goin' in?" Mac asks, gesturing to the Command center. She nods sharply, and everyone gets to work. Together they systematically clear the dead bodies away from the main doors, so they could make their entry. 

Inside, everything was eerily quiet. The lights flickered above them as they walked through the narrow hallways, making it slightly harder to see as she turned the corner, leading the group. But she still heard the click of a hammer being pulled back, just in time to duck as a bullet suddenly buzzed past her head, hitting the wall behind her.

Taking cover and signalling to her unit to stay low, she sniffed the air to try and get a read on the shooter. The scent was peculiar enough for her to recognize it straight away, and she groaned in exasperation. Only one person in this entire complex smelled like pineapple shampoo, and that was the idiot trainee that had been following her around like a nervous puppy for the last three weeks before the outbreak. _James Wilkins_. 

"You better not be shooting at _me_ , Private!" she calls to him angrily, rising up slowly from her crouched position. A long, pregnant pause follows, before he calls back hesitantly; "C-Captain?".

She can tell that the kid is close to pissing himself, which would serve him right in her opinion. "You're damned lucky you're still a crap shot!" she berates him as she comes into view, making the nervous Beta nearly drop his gun at the sight of her angry red eyes. "I-I didn't know it was you, Sir--MAM! I-I meant mam!" he stutters, practically shaking in his oversized boots. She hears Mac snicker behind her, and rolls her eyes unamused. "Where's the General?" she asks impatiently, barely waiting long enough for the kid to stutter out "C-Control room" before pushing past him in that direction. 

She found only a handful of soldiers inside, most of them looked like they'd been put through the ringer, but still saluted her as she walked by them. The control room was at the end of the hall, and she paused in front of the door, staring at the crooked sign on the wooden surface as she took a deep breath to steady herself before walking inside.

The General was a tall, greyhaired man, with broad shoulders and a stern face that had made more than a few soldiers quake in fear over the years. He had the sort of presence that demanded obedience and respect, an Alpha's Alpha. But he did have one soft spot, as Mac had teasingly pointed out once. _Billie_.

He had his back towards her as she entered the control room. Hunched over a table covered in maps and incident reports, grumbling quietly to himself as he tended to do when he was thinking. His uniform looked rumpled and somewhat dusty, splatters of dried blood on his sleeves. He was the best thing she'd seen all week..

"I heard shots. Everything alright, Private?" he asks gruffly without turning around, scribbling something down on a small notepad to his right. She bit back a smile as she jokingly replied; "He missed, luckily. Otherwise you'd be short on daughters right about now..". 

Now, that got his attention, alright. He whips around with surprise and relief written all over his tired, battleworn face. "Billie!" is all he says as he closes the distance between them in three strides, wrapping his only daughter up in his arms. "Hey Dad" she says quietly into his collar as she takes in the familiar scent of old spice, gunpowder and whisky with a content sigh. 

"Are you okay? You're not bit?" he asks as he pulls back enough to look at her face. She shakes her head; "No, Sir. I'm good to go" she says, straightening her posture, and he smirks a bit. "Of course you are. You're a Mitchell" he replies, as if that made her invincible or something. She snorts quietly at the notion.

"How many of your men made it out?" he asks seriously, going back into what she internally refers to as ' _General-mode_ '. "Six" she reports dutifully, then cocks her head slightly, adding; "Seven if you count Mac". The look on his face was worth the dry delivery.

"Mac? He's here?" he asks surprised, and she nods, small grin playing with her lips. "Picked him up in Atlanta" she tells him, and he raises an eyebrow. "What was he doing there?" he wonders. She opens her mouth to tell him when a knock on the door grabs their attention.

"Guess you can ask him yourself" she says as Mac enters the room, Nate walking in behind him. The General frowned as he took in Mac's long hair, the beard and the bright red cowboy boots that even Billie hadn't noticed until now. 

"I see retirement ain't done you any good. You look like a damn _hippie_ " her father chooses to greet him with. Mac looks him over with a glare. "Well ya ain't no postcard ya self, Chief" he counters easily, and after a few tense moments both men starts chuckling, hugging each other like brothers. Billie shaking her head at both of them, albeit fondly.

For a moment they could almost forget what was going on outside of these walls. Almost..

But the dead elephant in the room couldn't be ignored for long. And as the smiles slowly faded away, the seriousness of their situation needed to be adressed. "What happened here, dad? I mean, the base looks like a warzone" she starts off with. Which they all knew was putting it mildly. 

The General's eyes darken. "One of our own got infected" he tells them. "We've all seen what happens when someone is bitten. We knew what we had to do. But so did he, and fear got the best of him.." he continues, the look in his eyes told them all that he was seeing it play out again in his mind. "Boy got himself into one of the tanks and just went apeshit. Blew up half the damn base, killing a lot of good men in the process.." he explains, and it's not hard to guess the rest.

"They turned.." she surmises gravely, and the General nods, confirming it. "It was a goddamn _bloodbath_.." he finishes with a heavy sigh, tiredly dragging a hand across his weary face. Billie closed her eyes for a minute, not having to work very hard at all to imagine what he had seen. They'd seen their fair share of panic-induced carnage while in the city.

"So what now?" Mac asks both Alphas. And _that_ was a damn good question.. The base was practically in ruins, the government was most likely gone, which meant no laws, no police, no hospitals or anything else.. 

"We head for the next base" her father decides. Billie nods her agreement. Staying here just wasn't an option. They'd need supplies; food, water, medicine, weapons and much more. Not to mention a safe place to sleep. And most of that had been blown to pieces. Literally..

"Fort Benning? Or McPherson?" Nate asks, probably running through the same list in his head as Billie's doing. "I reckon Benning is our best bet" the General replies steadily. "When?" is the next question her Beta asks, and this one Billie decides for them by saying; "It won't do us any good to delay. We go tonight". Everyone agrees.

"Alright, I'll tell the men" Nate says then, and leaves the room promptly. Now they had a plan, but it wasn't without risks. It would be dark, and they'd have to move fast. There was no telling how many biters could have gathered between themselves and the vehicles. Even though they had taken out dozens on their way in, all the shooting had no doubt drawn in more than a few. 

All in all, it only took a couple of hours to get everything ready. They gathered up what little supplies they could find, ammunition, field kits, med kits, and any equipment they thought might be useful. Personal items were restricted to only the bare minimum. A few photos, small keepsakes etc. Heavy loads would only slow them down. 

Even though they were pretty much armed to the teeth, Billie still felt uneasy. There were a lot of rotting hands pawing at the glass windows around the building, and only fifteen tired soldiers to fight them with. In the dark, without backup.. But the harsh reality was that by morning it could be twice as many Biters to get through, or more. It was now or never, and they all knew it..

The General took the reins, leading the whole group towards the back entrance of the Command center. Hopefully there would be less of the damned things through that way. But there would still be a good ten minutes worth of time for something to go wrong..

Everyone moved quietly as they passed through the doors and into the dark. The night air felt cool and slightly damp against Billie's skin as she brought up the rear of the group. She could just barely make out her father up ahead as her eyes adjusted to the dark. But the dark wasn't the only thing making their journey difficult..

If they were to avoid most of the Biters, their best bet was to stay in the more 'smokey' areas, to mask their scents. But that also meant being robbed of one crucial sense; _smell_.. Billie didn't like it, not one bit.

Still, they pushed on. Slipping stealthily between the remains of what had once been an impressive military complex. One they had been proud to serve and call their ' _home_ '.. Now, the smoke coming off of what was left burned in her nose and throat, leaving the acrid taste of ash in her mouth.

As they passed through a well worn path between two still-burning buildings, the smoke grew thicker, and she couldn't see more than two feet ahead. That's when she heard it. The groans. 

Whipping her body around, she fired blindly, hearing the 'thuds' as bodies hit the ground. But as screams and yells filled the air, she realized that the Biters weren't just behind her. They were _everywhere_..

Because of the smoke they couldn't tell what was pack and what _wasn't_. At least not until it was too late. Shots rang out into the night, adding to the panic as everyone fought just to stay alive. 

Abandoning her gun for now, she grabbed her combat knife instead. She wasn't about to risk shooting one of her own, the fights would have to be up close and personal. At least then she'd be able to see who/what she was fighting. 

Billie kept her feet moving, twirling around in half circles as she tried to cover all sides while hopefully moving _out_ of the smoke and not further into it. She felt something brush against her shoulder and grabbed it, _it_ being a hand. The yelp that followed told her in time that the hand belonged to someone living, so she pulled it along with her. "Come on!" she called, and the person attached to the appendage stopped fighting her. 

"Captain?" she heard Jackson's voice ask, and realized it was him she was dragging with her. "Yeah, it's me, let's go!" she confirms, and together they stumble out into thankfully clearer air. She could see now, but immidiately wished she couldn't.

Because a mere stonethrow ahead of them, a man layed on the ground, struggling with two Biters on top of him. It was the General..

The blood froze in her veins, even as she charged forward. "No, no, no, no! DAD!!" she screamed as she ran, tackling not just one, but _both_ Biters, ripping them away from her father. They hit the ground hard. Adrenaline propelling Billie to roll and kneel, grabbing one of the suckers by the neck and stabbing it in the head. She felt the blood spatter of the other against her back as her father had regained enough momentum to reach his gun and shoot.

Billie turned and saw the gun shaking in her father's hands as he let go of it to put pressure on the gaping wound in his shoulder..

"Dad..." she whispered as she kneeled beside him, staring at the obvious bite-wounds with disbelief. "I guess I'm not as fast as I used to be.. Didn't even hear them coming.." he wheezes, gritting his teeth against the pain. Billie's trembling hands find their way to the biggest wound and press down hard, making him wince. 

"Shit.." she hears Mac say somewhere in the background, but she can't focus. All she sees is the blood pumping out from underneath her fingers, panicking she presses harder, to stop the flow. The General's hand appears on top of hers, and she looks up, meeting his pained, but determined eyes. 

"You need to get the men out of here" he tells her calmly. She can see that he has already accepted his fate, but she sure as hell hasn't. "I'm not leaving you!" she more or less growls. And her father looks at her with such warmth and fondness, that it almost breaks her. "I've been compromised, Captain. You know what to do.." he says, still in that calm tone that makes her eyes water.

"I.. I can't.." she chokes out. Just the thought of it was too much. She couldn't do this. She couldn't kill her own father. But he grips her hands tight, and flashes his red eyes at her. "Yes you can, and you will. I'm not turning into one of them damned things!" he tells her firmly, and she can't keep it together anymore.. She rests her head on top of their hands and sobs. "I can't.." she repeats over and over as she cries. 

The General strokes her hair softly, comforting her the only way he can right now. Billie doesn't know how long they stay like that, time doesn't seem to matter anymore. 

"I ain't done right by you.. I never did.." he tells her wistfully, and this makes her raise her head again to look at him. "What are you talking about?" she asks confused. He gives her a pained smile, moving his hand to lightly rub against her cheek. "I was always so hard you.. Your brothers too, but especially you.." he says and she shakes her head, saying that "It doesn't matter-" but he cuts her off. "Yes it does! Listen to me!" he demands, and she nods, barely even seeing him through her tears.

"I thought I had to toughen you up.. Make you strong.. But I was wrong.. I was _so wrong_.." he says, with such regret. "Dad.." she tries, but he goes on. "You were always the strong one.." he tells her, much to her surprise. "When your mama died.. We all fell apart.. But not you.. You carried us through it.. All of us.. 'Cause that's what you do.." he says, proudly. It's probably the first time he's expressed real pride to her, and she swallows thickly. 

"That's what you've always done.. So I know you can do this.." he says, steadily placing his gun in her hands. A calmness starts to take root in her, as if bleeding through from him and into her. "Please.." he begs of her when she hesitates. After a long minute, she nods shakily, taking the offered weapon. She kisses his forehead, whispering; "I love you, dad..". 

"I love you too, bumblebee.." he says, using her chilhood nickname. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, then opens them to look at her father one last time, taking aim..

*bang*


	2. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 years later....

As a kid, Daryl thought he knew what Hell was. He thought Hell was a place in Georgia. A place where a cruel old man would beat his kids in a drunken rage every week. A place where his mother burned to death. Where he was abandoned by his brother, and where he was made to believe that he was nothing but trash. _Worthless_. A freak. He thought _that_ was Hell. He was wrong..

 _This_ was Hell.. The Sanctuary was Hell..

Slowly opening his one good eye, he sees nothing but pitch black all around him. His other eye was swollen shut and useless. Had been ever since his last beating. When was that again? Yesterday, or the day before? He couldn't remember.

He has lost track of how long he's been here. Time doesn't really matter in a place like this anyway. But he thinks it's been months. At least.

The bruising on his ribs makes it hard to breathe, but the pain is familiar. Grounding. Enough to stave off the panic that comes with being locked up like this. Trapped like an animal. Naked and alone, in the dark..

Other 'prisoners' had come and gone, but he was still there. Nobody else had survived in here as long as he had. It was the last point of pride he had left. He was still alive..

But for how long?

Every day they would drag him out and beat him. And every night they'd strip him naked and throw him back in his 'cell'. That was routine by now. The only thing that varied was what happened in between..

Sometimes they would parade him around the camp, like some damn symbol of Negan's power. Other times they'd make him do chores, like mopping the floors, picking up trash, that sort of thing. Those were the _good_ days..

The worst days was when he was thrown into the 'yard' and put on fence-duty. Forced to fight off walkers with nothing but his fists, unless one of the guards was feeling generous. Then he might be allowed a small knife or a stick..

They would leave him in there for most of the day, under the blistering sun, fighting to survive. And when he was too tired to fight anymore, they'd drag him back out.

At first, he was confused. He wondered why they didn't just kill him. Like they killed Abraham.. Like they killed _Glenn_.. 

But now he understands. He gets it. They want to _break_ him. 

They'll probably make a big show out of it too. Waiting until all the fight drains out of him, then drag him out in front of everyone. "See what happens when you go against the Saviors. When you go against Negan.."

Only then would they finally kill him..

And Rick.. The pack.. They wouldn't be able to do shit about it. They'd be forced to watch in horror. That was the worst part. Knowing the fear and pain that would be inflicted on _them,_ on his family..

But he didn't see another way out. There was no escaping this place. This Hell.. And as he hugged his bare knees to his chest, blinking away tears in the dark, Daryl had never felt more alone..

*********

_**Meanwhile..** _

Waking up used to be a pleasant experience, Billie thinks. She would wake up slowly. All warm, content and comfortable. Sleepily stretching out limbs and strongly considering just going back to sleep. But nowadays..

 _Forget it,_ she thought sourly as she opened her eyes to stare at the ugly rotting faces pressed up against the windows of Mac's beaten down truck. 

Grumbling quietly to herself, she flips over on her back so she can place her bootclad feet firmly against the car door. She struggles to reach the lock for a minute, but manages to snap it open before kicking with all her might, sending the slobbering Biters flying. 

All the commotion stirs Mac enough to blearily open his eyes, just in time to see Billie exit the car armed with combat knives in each hand. He groans and rubs his face tiredly, trying to wake himself up in case she needs him. Not that she ever really does..

By the time he's sitting upright and loading his gun, Billie is already done with her little 'Morning Routine'. With half a dozen corpses spread around her to show for it. Figures..

"It's too early for this shit.." he mutters to himself, sinking back into the seat. The sun was was barely up, but he could already tell it was gonna be another hot day in the south. No surprise there.

"That all of them?" he asks as she opens the door again, reaching for the water bottle she always stored on the floor. "Yup.." she says simply, unscrewing the cork and drinking her fill. Mac nods, and starts patting down his pockets, looking for his sigarettes. He never seemed to remember just which pocket he put them in. But then again, he was getting old, he thought wistfully.

"I'm surprised there wasn't more of them" she tells him conversationally, throwing the now empty bottle back in the truck. "What with your loudass snoring, and all" she adds, a teasing glint in her sharp eyes.

He grunts, glaring at her as he finally locates his sigarettes and lights one up. "Anyone ever tell ya, you're a bitch in the mornin'?" he asks her, and she snorts. " _You_ do, all the damn time" she says and snaps the door shut before walking over to the next car. 

Mac huffs, amused, as he watches her knock her fist on top of the white volvo in front of them. Startling the current occupants awake, namely Nate and Jimmy. Or _James_ , as he kept insisting they call him. Nobody ever did. To them he was still a kid, even though he was in his mid-twenties now and had come a long way from being the nervous trainee they had known in the beginning. 

"Rise and shine, people! Riiiise and shiiine!" she greets them with mock cheer, hearing nothing but grumbling and cursing from inside the car. She bites back a smirk as Jimmy tiredly rolls down the window, looking like a grumpy badger cub just emerging from hibernation. "I'll rise, but I ain't _shining_ " he tells her sourly. She barely restrains herself from mussing up his hair, just to see if he'd _bite_ her. 

Peering into the back, she frowns as she realizes that she's missing one. "Where the Hell is Ollie?" she asks confused, but then the trunk snaps open and answers her question, as a loud yawn comes out from in there. 

"Do I even wanna know why you're sleeping in the trunk?" Billie wonders out loud as she walks around to find his sleepy mug poking out. His blonde hair sticking up in every direction. He cocks an eyebrow at her and says; "Well, between Mac's snoring and Nate's farting, it's the only damn place I could sleep!". She huffs and reaches out a hand for him to grab, so she could pull his gangly looking body out of there. 

"Come on guys, wake up! We hit the road in ten!" she calls to the ones still in the car, knowing full well that they were likely to fall asleep again if she didn't. 

Behind her, Mac was already rolling out the map across the hood of his truck, offering a smoke to Oliver as he sleepily stumbled over there. They'd been out on the road for a long while this time, and they were all pretty run down. 

"I reckon we're about three hours out" Mac says as the five of them gather around the hood, his finger pointing to where they are on the map. 

"Good. We'll back in time for lunch then" Billie concludes while putting on her riding gloves. They had only stopped here last night to rest, finding a few stranded cars to take shelter in. By day they all rode on their motorcycles, except for Mac. His bad leg ached something fierce whenever he'd ride one for more than a few hours, so on longer trips he'd take his old truck. 

They'd parked the bikes in the middle of the road. Because, why not? It's not like the apocalypse was heavy on traffic.. 

"I'm guessin' that means no breakfast, huh?" Mac says cheekily. Billie gives him an offended look as she swings her leg over her beloved Harley. "Do I look like a B&B to you?" she retorts snippily, making the older man snicker. "Jus' checkin', boss.." he says, playfully winking at her before getting back in his truck.

He saw her roll her eyes at him as he turned the key in the ignition, and grinned to himself. They often played this game of who could annoy the other the most, although no winner was ever really decided. 

With all wheels now rolling towards camp, Mac pressed the **Play** button on the dusty old car stereo, and was soon tapping the steering wheel and humming along to " _I walk the line_ ". It was one of his most prized possessions; a copy of _Johnny Cash - Greatest Hits._

Billie had snagged it for him on a run a few years back, and he had kept it in prime condition, oddly touched that she had remembered his fondness for the late singer. 

Of course, she had given it to him in typical 'Billie fashion'. Meaning; Bloody, bruised and with a herd of biters nipping at her heels. Slapping the record against his chest while limping past him, saying; "I got you this. Don't fucking lose it..!".

The memory still made made him smile. One could safely say that Billie wasn't the soft and cuddly type. But she had her own ways of showing affection towards her pack-members. Often with some _tough love._

Like when Nate had that toothache last year. It had been a nasty infection in one of his molars. And well, the end of the world doesn't provide much in the way of dentistry now, does it?

But their Alpha solved that problem easily enough. By drugging his water and then yanking the damned thing out with pliers while he was knocked out.. Sheepishly handing him a bottle of whisky as a peace offering when he woke up later in the day.

Tough love..

That's just who she is. Hard as nails, sharp as a tack, and with a wicked sense of humor. Everyone who knew Billie, either respected her, or feared her. Or both. He was proud to be in her pack, they all were.

But lately Mac has started to worry a little..

You see, Alphas aren't meant to go through life alone. There's a reason why packs are most often ruled by an Alpha _Pair.._ As in Alpha + Alpha's Mate.. A damn good reason.

Unmated Alphas are far more aggressive than mated Alphas. That was just a fact. And the longer they went without a mate, the worse it got. Their biology demanding a partner to give them balance, stability. Some Alphas even go feral. Losing all sense of humanity. A feral Alpha was just as deadly as a herd of biters, and it almost always ended with the Alpha having to be put down.

So far, Billie had shown remarkable resilience and self control, despite never having taken a mate. Having a pack around her certainly helped to keep her steady, and she was able to channel her more violent instincts into fighting biters and protecting the pack. 

But no matter how extraordinary their Alpha was, Mac knew that the clock was ticking.. Not that he'd ever tell _her_ that, she'd put him on his ass if he tried.. But still.. He worried.

Because even though there was no shortage of men (or women) willing to mate with her, even during an apocalypse, she showed no interest in anyone. The poor bastards that occationally _attempted_ to flirt with her, more often than not, ended up with a bloody nose for their efforts.. 

Now, even an old Beta like Mac knew that an Alpha's mate had to be someone special. Simple physical attraction wasn't gonna cut it. There had to be a real connection there. But sometimes he wondered if their Alpha was just plain too _stubborn_ to settle down. He wouldn't put it past her, hardheaded woman that she was.. 

Up ahead, Billie was nearing the gates to their camp, and steeled herself for the mess she would undoubtedly have to sort out. _Again_.. It was always something. But that's what you get when you share territory with a bunch of triggerhappy assholes, she mused as she signaled the guards to open up the gates to the Sanctuary.

"Home, sweet home.." she muttered to herself, not really meaning a word of it. 

The gates creaked open, letting the Riders roll on through. She parked at her usual spot, near the makeshift bar they'd put up to entertain the dumbasses on long nights. Nate, Jimmy and Oliver following suit, while Mac drove further in. He had his own spot for his beloved old truck. 

As Billie pulled off her bandana and stretched after the long ride, a man with soft brown eyes, dark curls and a scar across his face came to greet them. 

"The Queen has returned!" he says jokingly, but with obvious joy at seeing her. Billie chuckles at the greeting. "Good to see you too, Benji" she says fondly. Benjamin Rice was one of the few Saviors she actually liked. He was the lead mechanic around here, and the only one Billie trusted to work on her bike when it needed some fine-tuning. 

Benjamin grinned and did a couple of fistbumps with the guys as they got of their bikes. Jimmy yawned and stretched, winking at Billie before sauntering off towards where Mac had parked, wanting to help out with the gear stored in the back. 

"Any trouble while I was gone?" the Alpha asks, and doesn't like the way Benjamin's smile fades as he ducks his head briefly. "What happened?" she demands, feeling her eyes flash red as she braces herself for whatever shitshow she's walked into this time..

*************

Something was different today..

The guards should've already come for him, but instead he had heard them walk straight past his 'cell'. He wasn't sure why, but a part of him was grateful for the respite.

He wondered if they would just leave him in here today. That would almost be a nice change. _Almost_. If they did, then he probably wouldn't get anything to eat, and he was already starving. Daryl had lost a lot of weight since he was captured, and the only time he got any food was when the guards tossed some scraps at him while he was doing chores outside. Like he was a dog..

It was the voices that jostled him from his dark thoughts. Voices he didn't recognize. They didn't belong to any of the guards, but he still felt his heart speed up and his fists clench as they came closer.

Whoever it was, they were opening and closing doors along the way. Like they were looking for something.

"I dunno, Billie. He could jus' be messin' with ya.." one of them says, and Daryl tenses up. _Billie_. Now, that's a name he's definitely heard before..

He often picked up snippets of conversations around the camp. He'd listen intently, hoping to hear any news about Rick and the pack. But he never did. What he _did_ hear a lot about though, was how Negan had made a lot of changes, and that _"Billie ain't gonna like it.."_

That peaked his curiosity..

From what he's been able to piece together since then, Billie is like their _Queen_ or something. Negan's right hand. Whenever her name was mentioned among the Saviors, it was always in hushed tones. Fearful. Like she was the fucking _boogeyman_ hiding under their beds..

"I doubt it. He's not that stupid.." Billie says with a slight huff. Like she's offended by the very _idea_ of someone playing her. Her voice carries authority, he notices, a sort of sharp edge to it that makes you want to sit up straight and pay attention. Strange..

"Maybe.. They sure didn't look too keen on ya walkin' in here.." the other one admits thoughtfully. " _Exactly_. And I don't know about you, but _I_ would like to find out why.." she says before abruptly stopping in her tracks, right outside his 'cell'-door. 

"What is that _smell_?" she asks, disgusted, and Daryl cringes in shame. Knowing that what she's smelling is _him_.

The Saviors didn't allow prisoners to shower or clean themselves at all. It was part of their punishment. Normally he didn't mind a little dirt on him, but this was _months_ of grime sticking to his skin. A _walker_ probably smelled better at this point..

He hears a set of keys jingling, and braces himself as the door is unlocked and light floods into his dark corner of misery.

"Jesus Christ.." the man mutters under his breath when he sees him. But Billie says nothing, just stares at him, stonefaced and unreadable. Daryl chances a look at her from underneath his bangs, and blinks in surprise. He's not sure what he had expected the elusive Queen to look like, but it sure as shit wasn't this..

 _Billie_ looked like some Black Ops version of G.I. Jane. Well, if G.I. Jane ever grew her hair out and joined a gang of bikers..

She was dressed in all black, like most of the Saviors were. But she topped it off with combat boots, fingerless leather gloves and fucking _thigh_ _holsters_ for her twin guns. He could also see the butts of what he assumed were swords poking up from behind her back. Damn, this chick didn't mess around..

A glimt of metal on her chest caught his eye as she crouched down in front of him. Dog tags, he realized. Ex-military then.

She wore a deep frown between her sharp green eyes as she looked him over. He shiftet uncomfortably under her scrutiny, acutely aware of how pitiful he looked right now. Naked, bruised and filthy.. 

He didn't know what she wanted or why she was there, her expression didn't reveal anything. But then she _sighed_. And not in a happy way. No, this was a long, deep exhale that sounded decidedly unimpressed and thoroughly fed up.

"Get Negan. We need to _talk_.." she more or less growls through her teeth. Her companion, who looks to be an older man just nods seriously, frowning and scampers off with a slight limp.

She sounds majorly pissed off, and Daryl's not really sure what to make of it.. What to make of _her_. He wants to ask what she's gonna do to him, but the flash of red in her eyes the next time she looks at him, stuns Daryl into silence..

 _Alpha_..


	3. Queen's Orders

_Alpha_..

A _woman_ Alpha..

Daryl felt like he might as well be looking at a fucking Unicorn, because up until now he had never seen either.. 

Don't get him wrong, he wasn't one of those dumbasses who thought women were too weak to be Alphas. He had known his fair share of badass women, just look at Michonne, Carol, Maggie.. But they were all Betas. A female Alpha was so rare that most people could go their entire lives without ever seeing one. 

And here she was, right in front of him, looking like she might tear someone's head off..

When the old man returned, he was flanked by two other Betas. One was a massive Hispanic dude with a surly expression, the other was a younger guy with shaggy brown hair and a toothpick poking out from between his teeth.

"He's comin'.." the old man tells Billie, seeing her raise an eyebrow in question. The young shaggy looking one, winces when his gaze swipes over Daryl. "Damn, you weren't kidding.." he says, a pitying look in his eyes that makes Daryl wish the floor would just swallow him up. 

A moment later, a cheerful whistling could be heard throughout the hallway, and he shudders, clenching his fists tightly. _Negan_..

The cocky Alpha saunters into view with a wide grin on his face, throwing his hands out to the sides. "Honey, you're home!" he says in an exaggerated way, chuckling at how clever he obviously thinks he is. 

Billie responds by growling low in her throat. "Tell me that is _not_ who I think it is.." she says angrily, gesturing to Daryl, who frowns in confusion. "Tell me that's _not_ the archer from Alexandria..!" she clarifies, and Daryl freezes. What?

"You know him?" Negan asks with some surprise, but still looking infuriatingly smug. Billie scoffs. "I was on the recon team, remember? I know all their faces!" she snaps. The big guy to her right squints at Daryl and hums. "Thought he looked familiar.." he mutters. 

"Well, then you don't need me to tell you who he is, do you?" Negan says, smirking, sounding way too pleased with himself. Billie's eyes flash red. "Have you lost your mind? You snatched an Alpha's Second?!" she barks at him, incredulous. 

"Nope", Negan says, popping the 'P' obnoxiously. "Dwight brought him in" he tells her, and she groans exasperated. "Oh great.. That fucktard.. You know he's a psychopath, right?" she says, grimacing like she tasted something foul. 

Negan laughs. "I happen to think that's his best quality" he tells her. When she snarls at him, he frowns a bit. "You're really angry.." he says, like he's surprised or amused, or maybe both. Which only serves to infuriate Billie even more.

"Of course I'm fucking angry!" she spits, " I've been out there for _months_! Putting an end to _one_ war, only to come back and find that you've started another one!" she berates him, and now Negan is getting angry too.

"Hey! I didn't start shit! They attacked us!" he shouts, pointing a warning finger at her. But she doesn't back down. "Unprovoked? Because _somehow_ , I seriously doubt that!" she challenges, and Negan growls, his eyes flashing now as well. 

The two Alphas are basically nose to nose, snarling at each other, and Daryl has no idea what the fuck is going on. Recon team? They were _watching_ them? What the hell?

Negan seems to suddenly remember that they have an audience, and tamps down on his temper, twisting his lips into an insincere smile. "Let's not fight in front of kids, huh? _Honey_..?" he grits out, and Billie looks like she's barely restraining herself from ripping his throat out.

"Fine!" she spits. Turning to her Betas, she orders them to stay put and to "Get the man some damn clothes!" and then she marches off with Negan in tow. Disappearing into what looks like an office at the end of the hallway, and slamming the door shut.

The old man drags a hand across his face and sighs deeply. "Well, ya heard the lady. Find him somethin' to wear, will ya?" he says tiredly, and the big guy next to him grunts in reply before walking off. 

Daryl's mind was reeling. How long had the Saviors been watching Alexandria? How come nobody at Hill Top had told them about the Savior Queen? And she was an _Alpha_? What the fuck? And why was she so angry that they had taken him? None of this made any sense...

He could hear the muffled shouting still going on between the Alphas, but the office walls were thick enough that he couldn't pick up any particular words. It all became background noise as he struggled to figure out exactly what was going on.

The big guy returned with a bundle of grey fabric in his hands that Daryl knew all too well. His _prison uniform_. As the man tossed it to him, he couldn't find it in himself to mind the smell, he was just relieved to be able to cover up again. He dressed as quickly as his battered body would let him, which wasn't half as fast as he would've liked, but at least he wasn't butt naked anymore..

He kept his head down as he hesitantly stepped out of the makeshift cell, unsure about what was gonna happen next. The old man looked him over critically, and raised an eyebrow at the big guy like a question. The other guy shrugged. "Benjamin said all prisoners wear that shit" he grunts as an explanation. 

" _All_ prisoners?" the old man responds, "There's more than one?" he adds sounding none too pleased about that. The big guy just nods, grim expression on his face. 

The young guy had stayed quiet for a while now, just staring at Daryl with that same pitying look from before. "What the hell did they do you, man..?" he asks quietly, not really expecting an answer, more like just thinking out loud. Daryl didn't say anything, just lowered his head even more. 

The young guy takes his canteen off of his belt, unscrews it and holds it out towards Daryl, who eyes it with suspicion. "It's just water. Look" he says and takes a sip before holding it back out. Daryl hesitates, but he's really thirsty, so eventually he snatches it from the guy's hand and drinks greedily.

"I'm Jimmy" he says carefully, as if talking to a skittish cat, then points to the old man. "That's Mac", and then to the big guy, "and that's Nate". Daryl narrows his one good eye, looking at each one in the order they're introduced, not sure what kind of game they're playing here.

"Ya got a name, son?" the old man, _Mac_ , asks, not unkindly. He hesitates again, but sees nothing threatening in any of their expressions. "Daryl.." he rasps finally, voice rough from disuse. He gingerly hands the canteen back to _Jimmy_ , who hooks it back onto the clip on his belt. 

"How long ya been here, Daryl?" Mac asks, and he shrugs, not really sure. Mac frowns. "Ya don't know?" he asks, and Daryl shakes his head. Mac hums in thought, nodding to himself. A loud cracking sound, like a whip, draws their attention back to the office door. Jimmy takes a step towards it, looking worried, but Mac halts him by grabbing his shoulder.

"It's jus' your typical Alpha posturin', kid. Don't worry 'bout it" he tells him, but Jimmy still looks tense, like he wants to barge in there and fight for his Alpha. "He's right, man. You know Bee, she'd break his skull in _half_ before he even knew what hit him" Nate joins in, smirking a little. Jimmy snorts, starting to calm down, and nods in agreement. "Yeah.. She would.." he says quietly.

Daryl is a little surprised to see such loyalty among Saviors. Loyalty based on love, and not just fear like the rest of them. But _these_ particular Saviors seemed different somehow, almost decent. It only confused him more..

A few moments later the office door swung open with such force that it almost flew off its hinges. Billie came storming out looking like a whirlwind of fury. Clearly their little chat had done nothing to calm her anger. But she was visibly trying to rein it in as she came closer. Trying and failing it seemed.

"I need some air.." she huffs, and walks straight past her Betas and the prisoner. "What about _him_?" Nate asks, nodding towards Daryl. "Get Benji to watch him. Just keep him the fuck away from _Dwight_!" she shouts over her shoulder on her way out, not slowing down. 

*******

She didn't have a destination in mind as she burst through the doors and marched across camp, she just needed to move. _W_ _alk it off_ , so to speak.

Sharing territory with another pack, with another _Alpha,_ was hard enough. But sharing it with someone like _Negan_ was damn near impossible. He was arrogant, reckless, possibly psychotic and a true master at pissing her off. And that was on a good day..

She honesty didn't know how much more of this she could stomach.. Negan was getting more unstable with every passing year. Hell, they _both_ were.. But while she focused her rage at thinning out the herds of the dead, he seemed more likely to _add_ to them.

He executed two unarmed men with a fucking _baseball bat_ for Gods sake.. Something he had seemed disgustingly proud of when he told her. Like it was some kind of _achievement_ that should impress her, but instead it made her want to throw up.

And as if that wasn't bad enough, they were keeping prisoners now.. Her mind kept replaying the image of the man when she had opened that door..

She didn't know his name, but she knew his face. Even swollen, bruised and filthy, it was easy to recognize. She'd seen it enough times to have it memorized.

Billie and Nate had spent weeks watching the Alexandrians closely. Trying to determine what sort of people they were, and if they could potentially pose a threat to the Sanctuary.

She took note of the bowlegged Alpha with curly hair and blue eyes. Rick, she heard someone call him. She tried to learn as much as she could about how _Rick_ ran things in their little community. How he interacted with his pack, his mate, his children. Anything that could tell her who he was as a man, as a leader.

But she kept getting distracted by his Second in command. The Archer..

He was an odd one. Smelled like a Beta, but fought like an Alpha. He was a bit of a loner, and seemed to spend more time outside of the walls than inside. Hunting, tracking, setting traps. And while he was at it, he'd clear the area of any Biters he saw with ease. Strong, fast and absolutely _lethal_.

His senses were much sharper than the average Beta. She had learned that by how many times he'd abruptly turned his head in hers or Nate's direction if they made even the slightest sound. Luckily they had been trained by the best and knew how to avoid detection, although he had certainly put their training to the test.

How the hell Dwight had managed to catch him and take him prisoner, was a mystery to her. But seeing him like _that_.. Naked, starved and beaten. Locked away in a dark closet, covered in filth.. It just wasn't right..

A man like that didn't belong in a cage.. He was a part of nature, much like a wolf or a fox. He belonged in the wild..

*******

When _Benji_ showed up, he took Daryl outside and handed him a plastic bag. No need for an explanation, Daryl knew the drill by now. So he got to work, picking up trash around the camp. He didn't mind much today, his head was still full of questions and confusion, so he was glad to have something to keep his hands busy.

He wondered if things would be any different now that the _Queen_ was back. And if so, how? She obviously didn't want him around Dwight, which he was grateful for, even if he didn't get why she would give a damn about that. 

As he walked around, picking up cigarette butts, bottles and other kinds of trash, he noticed that the camp was more quiet than usual. The Saviors were tense. Only low murmurs could be heard between them, and nobody seemed to pay him any mind at all, except for the guard assigned to him.

It was obvious that Billie wielded a lot of power around here, if she could cause this kind of reaction among a bunch of ruthless killers. Having met her, he could somewhat understand. The Alpha had certain presence about her, the kind that demanded your full attention. 

Speak of the devil, he thought as he spotted her sitting alone at a table outside of a makeshift garage. Her legs were propped up on top of the table, hands steadily working on cleaning the gun she'd dismantled while keeping an eye on the camp. She had removed her jacket and her blades, leaving her tattoed arms on display.

Curious, Daryl moved a little closer, squinting at the design of the ink. They looked like rams horns twisting upwards from her wrists to her shoulders. Why would anyone have that permantly inked on their skin? He wondered, then froze as his curious gaze met hers. She raised an eyebrow, then looked at her arm before looking back up again. A knowing glint in her eyes. 

"It was a joke" she says calmly, a twitch of amusement in her lips as he cocks his head in question. "When Nate and I were serving in Iraq, some of the locals had a nickname for me" she tells him, "They saw me walk away from an explosion without a scratch.. It was just dumb luck really, but they're a superstitious bunch. So they started calling me ' _Devil woman_ '.." she continues with a light huff, rolling her eyes. "My unit kept teasing me about it. Then one night when we were on leave, we had a little too much to drink, walked into an ink-shop and I thought; _'Why not?_ '.."

Daryl just stared at her, not sure what to say to that. He just stood there, awkwardly, with this stupid plastic bag in his hand. Wondering why the hell she was even _talking_ to him..

She reassembles her gun, holsters it before sliding her legs off of the table and kicking out a chair towards him. "Sit with me. I'm bored.." she tells him, and he briefly considers that she might not be entirely _sane_.. Although, who is nowadays..?

Hesitantly, he slowly inches towards the chair and carefully lowers himself onto it. Looking around he notices how practically every set of eyes in the whole damn camp is on the two of them, and that his guard has seemingly disappeared. He swallows. 

"You don't talk much, do you?" she asks him, bringing his attention back to her. Subtly clearing his throat, he replies; "Got nothin' to say..", while twisting the handles of the plastic bag between his fingers. She looks amused by his answer, and maybe a little surprised that he answered at all.

"Oh well, I guess we'll see about that.." she says almost teasingly.

"What the hell is Bee doing..?" Jimmy asks Mac as he spots her sitting outside, talking to a very uncomfortable looking Daryl. Raising his head from the cracked radiator he was trying to fix, Mac follows Jimmy's gaze to the sight in question and hums. 

"Dunno.. I'm sure she's got her reasons.." he says, studying their interaction thoughtfully. Billie seemed calmer than when they last saw her, which was a relief. Although, her choice of company made him wonder if she was up to something.. 

Back at the table, Daryl was fighting the urge to lean forward and inhale deeply as he watched Billie pull out a cigarette and light it. He couldn't help but look at it with longing, he hadn't had a smoke in months.. 

"You wouldn't want these" she tells him, gesturing with the cigarette in her hand. "They're menthols" she explains, and snorts at the light grimace he makes at that. Reaching inside her jacket, she fishes out a different pack and holds it out to him along with her lighter. "Here, have one of Mac's" she offers. He eyes it uneasily, not sure if it's a trick or not. "It's okay, he won't mind" she tells him, and finally he takes it, their fingers brushing as she pushes it into his hand.

Daryl carefully pulls one from the package, and places it between his lips. His hands are trembling slightly, so lighting it takes a few tries, but he manages. The first drag is heaven, even if it makes him feel a little lightheaded. "That good, huh?" she says, and he's surprised to see that she's actually smiling. It's a small smile, half a smile really, but it's a genuine one. He doesn't really know what to do with that, so he says nothing, just hands her the pack and the lighter.

"Have you had anything to eat yet?" she asks, and he can't stop the scoff that slips out of him. Does she think there's some kind of morning buffet for prisoners like him? Most days he's lucky if someone tosses him a half eaten sandwich or something.

"I haven't had the best morning either, you know.." she says conversationally, and he snaps. "Oh yeah? Did ya wake up naked and trapped in a damn _closet_?" he asks bitterly, but she doesn't even bat an eye at his outburst. "No, I woke up in a truck with a bunch of corpses trying to eat me.." she deadpans.

"Huh.." he says, not expecting that. Taking a closer look at her, he can see that she has some dark circles underneath her bright green eyes. Maybe she wasn't trying to piss him off, maybe she was just trying to relate..

"Bad mornin'.." he offers, almost sheepishly. And that small half-smile returns. "Yeah.. Bad morning.." she agrees, and they finish their smokes in something closer to companionable silence.

~~~~~

Later that same day, when Daryl has finished all of his chores. Benji takes him back to his 'cell' where he gets his biggest surprise so far. And this one _really_ confuses him..

It's been _cleaned_.. Thoroughly. There are actual _pillows_ on the floor, along with a bottle of water and a small flashlight. There's even a thin blanket neatly folded up in the corner..

What the hell?

As if that wasn't shocking enough, for the first time in months, he's _not_ stripped naked. He's _not_ shoved into the closet, or beaten..

They just ask him to get in, and when he does, they hand him a bowl of some kind of stew.. It's still warm, and it actually smells _good_.. 

Dumbfounded, he stares at them until one of them just shrugs and says; "Queen's orders"


	4. It's A New Day

When morning finally came around, Daryl was already awake. Sitting on one of the ridiculously fluffy pillows he'd been given, while resting his sore feet on another. He hadn't slept much. Not that the pillows weren't a major step up from sleeping on solid concrete, but his mind was too busy trying to figure out _why_ they were there in the first place..

" _Queen's orders_ " the guards had said.. But why? That's what he couldn't figure out.

He was the enemy.. He had fought and _killed_ Saviors.. Why would their Queen give a damn about him? Shouldn't she be demanding his head on a plate or something? It just didn't make any sense..

The little talk they had yesterday didn't give him any clues either. Only more questions. For one thing, he had assumed that her being Queen meant that she was mated to Negan. But now he wasn't so sure. The two Alphas had been at each others throats yesterday, and he got the distinct impression that it was the norm around here. If anything, Billie seemed to hate Negan's guts..

But could two unrelated Alphas rule over the same territory without being mated? And if they weren't, how the hell did they make it work? Wouldn't they just end up fighting over everything?

He remembers what it had been like in the beginning. How Rick and Shane had been locked in a constant battle for dominance. He remembers how it eventually ended with Rick having to kill Shane. And that was just within the first six _months_.. If he had understood the situation here right, then Billie and Negan had ruled together for _years_.. 

It seemed impossible that they could pull that off without being mated. But he hadn't seen any mating marks on Billie's neck. Negan had one, but it was decades old and faded. It would've been made long before she'd even presented. It couldn't be hers..

His thoughts were interrupted when time came for the guards to come and fetch him. He could only hear one set of heavy boots stop outside of the door, but still mentally braced himself for the beating he was sure would come.

That was the drill. Drag him out, punch and kick him, then put him to work. Every damned day. But when the door swung open he was just greeted with a gun pointed at his head. The guard pointing it ordered him to get up and move. That was different..

He carefully did as he was told, and soon found himself being pushed forward down a hallway and into a part of the building he'd never been in before. Most of the corridors looked the same. Concrete floors and white walls where the paint was starting to come off in flakes.

Daryl wondered if this was it.. If he was going to die today. He felt strangely calm about it as the guard kept nudging him in the back to keep him moving. It's not like he wanted to die, but after everything he'd been through he wasn't particularly keen on living either..

They went through a door and down another hallway. At the end of it he saw two men he immidiately recognized from the day before. It was the old man and the big guy. Mac and Nate. They didn't look like they were there to kill him, but that didn't really mean much, did it? 

"We'll take it from here, Loyd" Mac tells his guard, effectively dismissing him. Daryl hears the man leave the same way they came in, but he doesn't turn around. He keeps his eye fixed on the Queen's Betas. If they're gonna kill him, he wants to be ready for it. 

But all Mac does is look him dead in the eye and say; "Alright, then. How'd ya feel 'bout takin' a shower, son?" and then he grins.

Daryl blinks. What?

Mac looks amused as he opens a door to his right and gestures for Daryl to go in. He stands still for a good ten seconds and just stared at the old man, wondering if he'd heard him right. Then he cautiously peers inside and sees that it is in fact a shower room.

"It's only good for 'bout twenty minutes of hot water, but I reckon it'll do.." Mac says conversationally. "Soap, towels, it's all in there" he adds, waiting expectantly for Daryl to get his ass inside.

"Why?" Daryl asks before he can stop himself. Mac looks uncomfortable then. "Well, how do I put this delicately.." he trails off, sheepishly rubbing his beard. But then the big guy steps forward with a huff. "Dude, you stink.." Nate tells him straight up, wrinkling his nose as if to demonstrate.

Daryl still looks at them like they'd grown extra heads or something. But the allure of a shower wins out, and he eventually steps inside. He hears Mac tell him that they'll wait for him outside just before the door closes behind him.

There are seven shower stalls in total, and a couple of toilets and a sink with a mirror above it. There's also some lockers at the other end, and one of them is open. Frowning, he looks inside it and finds a bar of soap, towels, and even a fresh set of clothes.

It takes him a moment to shake himself out of his stupor, but when he does he gets to work on undressing himself. He has no idea why they want him cleaned up all of a sudden, but he's sure as hell not gonna argue.

He pulls his shirt over his head with a slight wince, his bruised ribs protesting the movement. Tossing the filthy shirt on the floor, he wishes he had a lighter to torch the damned thing with. He settles for glaring daggers at it while taking off his pants and giving them the same treatment. 

Choosing a stall in the middle, he turns on the water and steps under the spray, not even waiting for it to warm up. It's cold enough to make him gasp, but he grabs the bar of soap and starts lathering himself up, eager to get clean. The floor around his feet soon turns a brown-ish color, with months of filth running off of him, soap suds chasing it down the drain. 

His tense and sore muscles start to relax as the water heats up. It feels good. Even if the cuts on his face stings a bit, he still sighs in relief. He stands there letting the water flow over him until it loses it's warmth, only then does he turn the knob to shut it off.

He finds a towel and wraps it around his waist before stepping up to the mirror. He's not sure if he wants to look, but he needs to. Slowly, he lifts his head and meets his reflection.

His left eye was still swollen and purple, not much he could do about that. There was a whole myriad of bruises and cuts along his entire body, and he had lost quite a bit of weight. His collarbone and ribs were clearly visible.

Daryl's never really liked the way he looks. As a kid he felt he was too skinny, too pale and weird-looking. As a man he felt his shoulders were too broad, his eyes too narrow and his face too uneven.

Now, with skin still pink from the shower, and wet hair plastered to his skull, he just looked like a drowned cat who'd been beaten up. Huffing at his own reflection, he turns away and starts drying himself off while walking over to the open locker.

The clothes he was given were simple. A plain black T-shirt, grey boxers, loose-fitting dark jeans. At the bottom of the locker he finds a pair of socks and some sneakers. He could've wept with relief at just the thought of being able to wear shoes again.

He gets dressed quickly, not knowing how much time he's got before they'd come in after him. The clothes fit surprisingly well, and he briefly wonders how they knew his size, but then decides that he doesn't care. 

When he walks back out into the hallway, Mac and Nate both look him up and down. Nate nods in approval, while Mac smiles with his eyes. "Well, I'll be damned.. Almost didn't recognize ya.." he muses, then gestures for Daryl to follow them.

"Ya know anything 'bout bikes?" Mac asks him as they step into the sunlight outside. Daryl frowns at the question, but nods his head. "Know how to fix 'em up and shit?" Mac continues. Daryl nods again, and the old man hums, sounding pleased. "Good, then I got a job for ya" he says, guiding a confused Daryl towards the makeshift garage in the centre of camp. 

A slight movement on the balcony above it catches his eye and he looks up. It's Billie. She's leaning her elbows on the iron railing, smoking a cigarette and watching them. Squinting a bit against the light, she looks him over and after a moment she gives him a nod. He not sure how to respond, but settles for nodding back, hoping it somehow conveys that he's grateful for the clothes, the shower and everything. 

"Ya know Benji, right?" Mac asks, bringing his attention back to groundlevel. He sees Benji step out from the garage, wiping his hands with a rag. He nods again and is starting to feel like one of those bobbing heads people used to put on dashboards and stuff like that. "Hey. Daryl, was it?" Benji asks, holding out a hand to greet him. Daryl stares at him, then takes the offered hand as cautiously as he would pet a stray dog he didn't know. 

"What's goin' on here..?" he finally dares to ask Mac, who has been the most friendly to him so far. The old man looks at him and almost smirks a little. "Well, see.. Bee didn't like how ya was being treated. So she talked Negan into makin' some changes" he tells him, and gestures to the garage. "Y'all be workin' in here with Benji from now on" he says easily. Then he leans in a bit, as if to tell him a secret. "Unless ya rather be workin' the fence?" he suggests in a way that sounds like a joke, but is more like a threat.

Daryl swallows the bitter retort that sits at the tip of his tongue, and shakes his head. No, he doesn't want that. Working the fence was pure hell.. He'd do pretty much _anything_ to avoid that. Mac smirks for real now, and slaps him on the back, making him jump. "I thought so" he says with glee, and that was the end of it.

~~~~~~~~~

Up on the balcony, Billie wonders if she's doing the right thing. If there even is such a thing in this new world. But she feels marginally better knowing that there wont be any filthy, tortured prisoners under their roof anymore. She'd like to think that they were better than that. That they didn't keep people hostage and treat them like animals. 

She knew that they couldn't let him go. Holding him here was probably the only thing keeping this shitshow from escalating into a full blown pack-war. But that didn't mean they had to torture the man. They weren't _barbarians_. At least, she hoped they weren't..

But she wasn't quite naive enough to think that there wouldn't be consequences to her interference. A lot of Saviors still wanted revenge for their dead packmates. The blood Negan had already spilt over it wasn't enough to satisfy all of them. Killing Daryl was something most of them wouldn't think twice about.

When she ordered Dwight to stay away from him, she knew that she had issued a challenge, whether she meant to or not.. And sooner or later, she would have to decide how far she was willing to go to keep the archer alive..

~~~~~~~~~

By midday the sun was scorching hot and most of the Sanctuary was quiet as people sought out any source of shade that they could find. Even Mac and Nate had settled down at a table just outside of the garage, partially shaded by the balcony above.

They killed time playing cards while Daryl and Benji worked on an old Triumph that had definitely seen better days, but Benji was adamant that he could get it running again. "Just need a little loving, don't you Sweetheart?" he'd said, jokingly petting the tank with a cheeky grin.

There were four bikes under repair inside the dusty garage at the moment. Spare parts and tools were strewn all over the place, with no real order to it. But the curly-haired mechanic still seemed to know exactly where everything was, navigating the cramped space with familiar ease.

Working with Benji was... _different_.. Daryl was tense, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. For someone to laugh in his face and tell him it was all a cruel joke, and now they would go back to beating him every day. But as the hours passed without anyone who walked by even giving him a second glance, he gradually started to relax a bit.

Benji seemed alright, for a _Savior_.. He was pretty laid back, easygoing. Didn't ask too many questions, just talked about the bike they were working on and how to go about getting it on the road again. If it wasn't for his injuries and the Queen's guard-dogs sitting just outside, Daryl could almost forget that he was still a prisoner here.. 

But if he needed a reminder, it was standing right across the street, glaring at him. _Dwight_..

When Daryl spotted him, he froze. The handle of the screwdriver in his hand creaked ominously as his fingers tightened around it, turning his knuckles white. Dwight's glare turned into a smirk at seeing his reaction, and Daryl growled in anger. But Dwight wasn't alone. Three other Saviors stood shoulder to shoulder with him. Each one with their eyes fixed on Daryl. 

Time seemed to stand still as he readied himself for a fight. If they thought he was going to go easy, they had another thing coming, he thought.

But then the distinct sound of a shotgun being loaded drew their attention, as Mac calmly stared them down with his 12 gauge resting across his lap. The air was tense, but the old man's warning was heard loud and clear. Without ever saying a word, he unnerved the would-be assassins enough to make them back down and walk away.

Daryl has to admit; he's a little impressed. Some of it must have shown on his face because Benji suddenly starts chuckling. "Mac might be an old dog, but he's still got plenty of bite left in him. He's not someone you cross lightly" he says seeming genuinely amused, "None of The Riders are.."

" _The Riders?_ " Daryl asks, confused. The mechanic looks almost surprised for a second, but shrugs it off quickly. "Billie's pack. It's what we call them. Because they all ride, you know? Just seemed to fit.." he explains in 'what can ya do' - sort of way.

Daryl nods and tries to relax some of the tension still strumming through his body. As they went back to work, he kept glancing over at Mac, wondering why he was protecting him. The confusion of the last two days was really starting to give him a headache, but he understood that for _whatever reason_ , the Queen and her Riders wanted him clean, fed and at least somewhat safer. Now he just needed to figure out why..


	5. Chapter 5

Before the world went to shit, Billie had a routine. She'd wake up early, exercise, eat, then do whatever was demanded of her. Whether that was training recruits, planning missions, doing recognizance or killing off some Saudi warlord. She still kept up her routine.

But the apocalypse didn't grant her much leeway to do the things she used to do. However, that doesn't mean she didn't try.. She still got up early, still tried to get in _some_ kind of exercise, and if there _was_ anything to eat, she'd fucking _eat_ _it_. Whether it was palatable or not..

In some ways, life now was remarkably similar to living in an active warzone. Only instead of bombs dropping, they occationally had hordes of walking corpses trying to claw their way through the walls..

But not today. So Billie had zero fucks to give about the looks and cat-calls she was getting while she sparred with her Betas. Sweat pouring off of her as deflected a punch from Nate and used the force of his swing to flip him over her shoulder, slamming him into the ground.

The training was good for them. It released pent up frustrations, kept them sharp, and it also provided Billie with the stimulation she needed to keep herself sane. The fact that seeing her throw a big hulk of man like Nate to the ground also kept the Saviors in line.. Well, that was just a bonus.

Nate grunted with the impact, and blinked rapidly to dispell the temporary disorientation that followed.

"You're getting sloppy, my friend" Billie tells him teasingly, and hold out a hand to him. He glares at her, but takes the offered hand and lets her pull him back up on his feet. "I'm just warming up, Alpha" he says with more confidence than he currently feels. She chuckles. "Keep telling yourself that" she says, patting him on the back before gesturing to Jimmy that it's his turn. Jimmy gulps.

As the Betas took turns trying to get the upper hand on their Alpha, Daryl watched with rapt attention.

He had seen plenty of fighters throughout his life, but he'd never seen anyone fight like _that_ before. The way she moved.. She was light and quick as a rabbit, but as flexible and balanced as a cat. 

The Queen's eyes were lazer sharp and focused. Anticipating every move, and deflecting every advance like it was _nothing_. She patiently and methodically wore down her opponents. And when it was time, she struck back. _Hard_.

Every hit she delivered cut through the air with the speed and accuracy of a viper. And yet somehow Daryl _knew_ that she was holding back. It was incredible to watch. So much so that he completely forgot what he was supposed to be doing, which was mainly wiping down the Triumph that they had finished repairing earlier this morning.

Instead he just stood there with a rag in his hand, staring at the scene in front of him. "She's something else, right?" Benji says, startling him. For a second he feels like a kid who's been caught doing something wrong, but Benji seems nothing but amused. They both watch as Billie catches Jimmy in a chokehold and growls until the kid finally taps out.

"Kinda makes you wonder what she must be like in bed.." he says with an impish grin. When Daryl huffs at him, the grin widens. "Seriously, it's gotta be like grabbing a tiger by the tail, right? Just hang on and pray to God you survive!" he jokes. Benji's laugh is infectious, and Daryl can't help but quietly chuckle, even if his ears turn pink with the images now playing in his head.

It's been almost three weeks since he started working with the mechanic, and his daily life as a prisoner has changed dramatically.

He's still guarded 24/7 and he still gets locked up every night. But the way he's treated is as different as night and day.. Nobody touches him. He doesn't get pushed around or beaten anymore. He gets to eat twice a day, and shower whenever Nate's nose starts to crinkle.

Daryl's eye has started to clear up. The swelling is gone, and he can see just fine. It's still bruised and red, but improving every day. He's even starting to put some weight back on. 

He still doesn't know why Billie would give two fucks about him, especially not after what he did. He knows that if the shoe were on the other foot, Rick wouldn't have thought twice about killing someone who had attacked and killed people in Alexandria. No matter what their reasons were..

But he was grateful. Maybe he shouldn't be, he was still a hostage after all. But knowing what hell they _could_ be putting him through made him think differently.

Benji's comments were still ringing in his ears as he watched the Alpha fight. Her toned body seemed to defy gravity as she spun mid-air and locked her thighs around a blonde Beta's head, effectively flipping him to the ground and choking him. "Lucky guy.." Benji says with raised eyebrows, and Daryl snorts.

The mechanic was just one of many who seemed to be drooling over her majesty. Not that she ever paid them any mind. In fact, she seemed to actively ignore them for some reason.

Billie really was a gorgeous woman, though. He would have to be fucking _dead_ not to notice.. Her peach soft skin, pink lips and sharp green eyes were the kinds of beautiful that even models would be jealous of. So he could understand why there would be men lining up to try and get her attention.

Feeling eyes on him, he looks to his right and sees Mac studying him from his usual spot at the table. The old man has a knowing look on his face that makes Daryl feel more than a little uncomfortable. He ducks his head and starts wiping down the bike between them, like he was supposed to be doing anyway.

Mac, for his part, snickered quietly to himself. As much as he hated to admit it, he was starting to actually _like_ the guy..

The archer was a tough son of a bitch, anyone could see that.. But he was also surprisingly _shy_ and awkward. Like he just woke up one morning and found everybody else was dancing a dance that he didn't quite know the steps to. It was kind of endearing.

As the sparring matches kept up for most of the morning, he continuously caught Daryl glancing over at their Alpha, who was acting both as instructor and reigning champion. He could hardly fault the man for being curious. Billie was pretty far from being your average Alpha after all, and her fighting skills were the stuff legends were made of. 

But he was starting to wonder if maybe the glances had less to do with her being a rare female Alpha, and more to do with her being a beautiful woman.. 

~~~~~~~

Later in day, as the clouds started rolling in over the Sanctuary, the promise of the first rain in weeks hung heavy in the air. 

It was something that prompted a lot of the inhabitants to hurriedly put out buckets in advance, because even though they had running water in at least some of the buildings, it wasn't in infinite supply. So gathering what they could, _when_ they could, was just common sense. 

Daryl and Benji were working diligently on cleaning every bucket, bowl and plastic box they could find around the garage and in storage, which were surprisingly many, and then place them strategically outside. The growing rumbles from above made them move faster to get the containers all in place before the first drops started falling. 

He hurries outside with the first lot, ducking his head quickly as he spots Billie approaching them. He hasn't really talked to her since that first day, just the occational nod from afar. And that was just fine by him. Alphas make him nervous, always have. His pa was an Alpha, Merle too. And they were both abusive, intolerant assholes. In fact the only decent Alpha he's ever known is Rick..

But to be fair, Billie's been nothing but kind to him so far.. So maybe she ain't so bad, he thinks. When he finishes putting out the containers and turns around, he sees Billie holding out her hand to Mac with something that looks like pills in it. He frowns and listens in on their conversation.

"Here. For your leg" she says, and the old man makes a face. "Nah, I'm fine" he lies, discretely rubbing his aching knee. Billie sighs, clearly not buying it. "I know how it gets when it rains, so just take them.." she tries again, and Mac glares up at her half-heartedly. "Ya ain't my mama, ya know that, right?" he gripes. She huffs at him. "And you ain't a baby, so stop acting like one and take your damn medicine!" she says sternly, and he reluctantly takes them from her hand, popping them into his mouth and swallowing dry with a wince. 

Daryl half expects the old man to stick out his tongue at her afterwards, and it makes him bite his lip to keep himself from laughing. 

He's been witnessing many scenes like these between the Riders lately, and it's made him realize how little he really knew about them. How little _Rick_ and his pack knew before launching an attack on behalf of Hill Top. They had just assumed that it was all bad people up here, and they hadn't even known about Billie or that there were _two_ packs inside the Sanctuary, not just one. And even when Daryl found out about them he had assumed that they were just like Negan and his kind.

But learning about the Riders was proving him wrong every single day. They were a rough bunch. Most of them were hardened soldiers who you wouldn't want to cross. But the bond between them was obvious. They were family. They would die for each other. And they looked at their Alpha with nothing but love and respect. Well, _most_ of the time, he mused as the old man still grumbled over being made to take painkillers.

Benji came out and handed him the next lot of containers. Daryl took them and quickly went to place them alongside the others just as the first drizzle of rain started coming down. They had a pretty good set-up going now, and should get at least some of these filled up, he thought. 

But then the light drizzle turned into a monsoon-like downpour at the drop of a hat, and Daryl was sufficiently soaked by the time he'd put down the last bowl and ran back under the cover of the balcony. Spitting water like a stray cat who'd had an unexpected bath.

Billie turned around, took _one_ look at him and couldn't quite cover her mouth fast enough to stop him from hearing the honest-to-God _giggle_ that escaped her lips. He glared at her, which only seemed to make it worse, because now Mac has joined in too. Great..

"I'm sorry, you just look so _miserable_...!" she says, visibly struggling to not burst out laughing again. He growls quietly and stomps back into the garage. It can't be that fucking funny, he grumbles to himself, grabbing a clean-ish rag of the work bench and wiping himself off.

The silence around him makes him pause and he looks over at Benji who's got a strange expression on his face. "What?!" he barks, still feeling pretty embarrassed. Benji seems to shake himself out of his stupor and says; "I just.. I've never heard her laugh like that before.." 

Outside, Billie was starting to feel a little bad. She told Mac she'd be right back and went up to her loft to get a towel for the grumpy archer. She picked out a soft one that wouldn't irritate any cuts he might still have that were healing, and headed back down. 

The garage was quiet as she entered. Both men busying themselves with various repairs. Though how they got anything done in all this clutter was beyond her, she thought as she stepped over spare parts and god knows what else. 

Daryl startles when he finally notices her, ducking his head to hide his face behind a mop of wet hair. He does that a lot, she notes. Strange how a man like him can go from big and dangerous to small and meek in just a blink of an eye. "I'm sorry I laughed.." she tells him a bit sheepishly, then hands him the towel. "Here.."

He lifts his head just enough for her to see his guarded blue eyes as he takes the towel and sort of just shuffles it awkwardly in his hands. "Thanks.." he says, his voice quiet and raspy. Studying him closely, she wonders if he's always like this, or if it's just the circumstances. 

"I'll just let you get back to work then.." she says, taking a step back before adding; "I'm sure Benji wouldn't mind lending you something dry to wear, if you want to change..". Looking over at the mechanic she makes it a question by raising her eyebrows. "Not at all. We're roughly the same size, I think" he responds, and she nods in approval. 

"Alright, then. I'll leave you to it.." she says and walks back out to Mac. 

Daryl watched her leave, feeling more confused than anything else. Alphas don't apologize.. Even Rick doesn't do that unless he has _royally_ fucked up. But Billie just did, and for what? For _laughing_? He looked down at the ridiculously soft towel in his hands and frowned. 

He just didn't _get_ her..


	6. Steady On, Rider

Early the next morning the rain had slowed to more of a steady drizzle, but showed no signs of stopping any time soon. 

Daryl stood by the entrance to the garage, idly watching the downpour as it hit the ground, turning the makeshift streets of the Sanctuary into a muddy mess.

Apart from the rain, it was quiet. Benji hadn't showed up yet. And Nate, who was guarding him today, never really talked much. At least not to him. Just kept watch, ever vigilant. 

He sees a few people walking around in the rain, but none of them is the mechanic he's looking for. It's unusual for Daryl to be at the garage first. Benji's the kind of guy who's up and working at the crack of dawn, never really sitting still. 

As the morning carries on, and he still hasn't showed up, Daryl starts to worry. He looks over at Nate, who seems a little restless too. "Ya think he's sick or somethin'?" he asks. The big guy meets his eyes with something unreadable. He unhooks the hand-held radio from his belt and bring it up to his chin. 

"Bee, you there?" he calls, and the receiver crackles with static. "Bee, come in?" he tries again. More static. Then a soft click can be heard before she responds; " _Go ahead, Nate"_. 

"You got tabs on Ben?" he asks while looking at Daryl, who's shifting uneasily. There's a slight pause. "He's not at the garage?" she asks surprised. Nate exhales noisily. "Not unless he's invisible, no..." he says dryly, but without any mirth. "Don't sass me, I get enough of that shit from Mac" she responds tiredly, before adding; "I'll go check on him". 

Daryl bites his nails while they wait. He doesn't like this, not one bit. Something just feels wrong.. He sees Billie exit a building further down from them and cross the street, towards what he assumes is Benji's place.

He's never been inside, but he's seen the mechanic walk in that direction every night after they've wrapped up their work for the day. She steps inside, and he twitches with impatience.

A few minutes later the radio crackles back to life, startling them both. " _Nate, come in!_ ". The big guy picks up straight away and responds; "Boss?". 

" _I need you and Daryl to run down to medical and get a stretcher. NOW!"_ she demands urgently. The men share a look before bolting down the street, Nate leading the way and Daryl nipping at his heels. "How bad is it?" Nate yells into the radio as they run. 

_"Someone beat the shit out of him, Nate.. He's barely alive._." she says a little unsteadily, and they pick up the pace, running as fast as their legs would carry them.

"We're on our way!" 

~~~~~~

Benji's breath was wheezing with every strained intake of air as Billie ripped open his bloodsoaked shirt to expose his chest. From the looks of him, she was amazed that he was even breathing _at all._.

His face was so bludgeoned and swollen that she wouldn't have been able to tell it was him if she couldn't smell him. She gently pressed along his ribs and found that almost all of them were broken, and his left lung was most definitely punctured. 

The heavy layer of bruising and cuts along his arms and hands also caught her eye. Defensive wounds.. Benji obviously hadn't gone down easy, he had put up one hell of a fight..

"Bee.." he croaks horribly, and she shushes him. "Don't talk, alright? Just stay still.." she pleads with him, as softly as you would to a child. "It's okay.. You'll be okay.." she says squeezing his hand, although she's not sure if she's trying to reassure him or herself..

When Daryl and Nate bursts into the small apartment, they're both taken aback by the scene. The whole place was turned on its head. Busted furniture and broken glass wherever you looked. And blood.. The air was thick with it..

Daryl felt sick when his eyes finally settled on Benji, who was hanging on by a thread. The man barely looked like a person anymore.. His _face_.. 

Billie looks up and tells them to place the stretcher beside him. When they continue to stand there in shock, she flashes her eyes at them. "Come on, guys! Snap out of it!" she barks and then there was just a flurry of movement as they carefully maneuvered Benji's battered body onto the stretcher and hurriedly carried him out.

The rain and the mud didn't make for smooth journey, but they managed, with Billie running alongside the stretcher, using her jacket to shield Benji from the worst of the downpour. 

Once they had gotten him inside the clinic, the Saviors' resident doctor and two of his helpers came running, but before they could take him away Benji's hand shot out and grabbed Billie's wrist. 

"Bee.." he wheezes, sounding desperate. Billie bends down, not sure where she can touch him without hurting him. "I'm here.." she says softly, and he coughs, struggling to speak.

"Make me.. a Rider.." he manages, surprising everyone except Billie, who just looks sad. It's not the first time he has asked, and she regrets not having accepted before all of this.

"Benji.." she starts, but he tightens his grip on her wrist. " _Please_.. If I die.. I wanna...die a Rider.." he begs her, and her heart breaks. 

She fights back the tears that wants to run free, and nods. He lets go of her wrist, and instead offers her his. Baring her sharp canines, she lifts his wrist up to her lips and bites down. Officially claiming him as pack.

She releases him gently, placing his hand beside his body, and leans forward to tenderly kiss his forehead. "Steady on, Rider.." she whispers wetly.

He smiles weakly, even when it opens up some of the cuts around his mouth. "Always.. behind you... _Alpha_ " he replies before losing consciousness, and a tear finally escapes her eye..

They weren't allowed to follow him further in, and were restricted to the waiting area they had set up in this makeshift medical facility. Billie snarled at the helper who gently tried to guide her in that direction by placing a hand on her back. It caused some serious tension, but eventually they went, albeit reluctantly..

~~~~~

Hours ticked by, and there was still no news. Billie was wearing a hole in the floor, pacing back and forth, while Daryl and the Riders sat quietly. The 'furniture' they had to sit on this so-called waiting area consisted of everything from old office chairs to plain old boxes. By apocalypse standards it wasn't too shabby. Hell, it was almost luxurious.

Daryl sat furthest away, in one of the corners, feeling very out of place. Everyone in this room was pack, except for him.. He wasn't sure why they were allowing him to stay here. And he wasn't sure why he _cared_ if they did.. 

These people might be protecting him now, but they're also holding him prisoner.. Benji has been the closest thing he has to a friend in here, but he's also the enemy..

 _Isn't he_? Aren't they? Daryl doesn't know anymore..

He's so confused.. But he wants Benji to be okay. That much he _is_ sure of. The man has never even said an unkind word to him. Just yesterday he had literally offered him the shirt off of his back, just so Daryl would have something dry to wear. 

And Benji was also the one who told Billie and Mac about him, told them what was being done to him.. So in a way, he was the reason why Daryl was now being protected and treated well.. With that thought, a horrible realization came to him..

"Is this 'cause of me?" he wonders out loud, shattering the silence of the room. The Riders all look at him, including Billie. But her eyes are unreadable as her pacing comes to a sudden halt. "Did Benji get hurt 'cause of me..?" he clarifies, a sinking feeling in his gut as some of the Riders look away. 

"This isn't your fault, Daryl" Billie states firmly. "It's mine" she adds before he can voice a protest. He frowns. When their eyes meet again, she lets him see the anger in them. Not at him, but at _herself_.

"I left him exposed when I _should_ have been protecting him.." she says, her tone had a certain sharp edge to it. One that made it clear that she blamed herself, and _only_ herself..

"You couldn't have known, Bee.." Jimmy argues softly from his seat next to the door. Billie looks at him sharply. "Couldn't I?" she challenges, her emotions finally reaching a fever pitch..

"I should have have known that they were too fucking _spineless_ to take me on directly.. Instead they went after the _one_ person I was _stupid_ enough to leave unprotected!" she grits out, nearly vibrating with rage.

"Billie.." Nate tries, but her red eyes shuts him up. " _Don't_.." she growls and storms out of the waiting room. Mac pinches the bridge of his nose and groans quietly. 

"I shouldn't have said anything.." Jimmy says miserably as the dust settles after Billie's abrupt departure.

"Don't take it personally, kid.. She was bound to blow up sooner or later.." Nate tells him comfortingly. Jimmy still hangs his head. He was the sensitive one in the pack, and was always more affected by their Alpha's mood.

"Where do you think she went?" Oliver pipes up from beside him, where he sits idly cleaning under his nails with his knife. "Probably to Ben's place, looking for clues.." Nate guesses. This was a hit below the belt, and he knows Billie will be wanting blood for blood. "Think she'll find any?" Jimmy asks.

"If it's there, she'll find it.." Nate says confidently.

~~~~

Once Billie stepped inside Benji's apartment, the stench of blood and fear was almost overwhelming. God, this place was a mess.. It looked like small tornado had blown through the hall and into the livingroom.

The mirror in the hallway was shattered, bloody pieces of glass strewn across the floor. The lounge table was broken in half, and she imagined it happened by someone being smashed through it.. 

Spare parts that Benji had been unable to properly store in the garage were everywhere. Including one bloodied exhaust pipe that she suspected had been used to bludgeon him with.. It was enough to make her blood boil, but she forced herself to calm, so she could focus.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply, concentrating on cataloguing every scent she could pick up. At first it was hard to smell anything other than blood, but after a while other scents became noticeable.

She could smell the faux leather of Benji's couch, motor oil, the sweat of a hard day's work, _Negan's aftershave_..

Her eyes snap open.

She whips around while pulling her gun at the same time, clicking off the safety and pointing it right at the surprised Alpha's head. 

"Woah..! Easy! I come in peace..!" he says with his hands up, and for once the man actually looks serious. Well, serious- _ish_..

She huffs and holsters her gun. "You shouldn't sneak up on people. Especially not people like _me_.." she says tiredly, going back to her search.

"Yeah, no shit.. Just forgot how fucking fast you are! _Jesus_.." he says, dragging a hand through his hair, and letting out a long whistle. She ignores his theatrics for the time being, and crouches down by the spot she had found Benji in.

Most of the blood has at least somewhat dried up, but it still stings her nose as she breathes it in, trying to single out any trace of scent that might tell her who did this.

"Have you found anything?" Negan asks, and she shakes her head. "Not yet. But I just started looking" she tells him. He crouches down beside her and dips a finger into the part of the bloodstain that was still wet. She makes a face when he brings it up to his lips and actually _tastes_ it. 

"Ugh.." she shudders, nauseated by the sight.. "It's not the same blood as the one in the hall.." he says with certainty, and she raises her eyebrows. "How can you tell?" she forces herself to ask instead of throwing up like she really wants to do. 

"Spent a few years working in a butcher shop.." he tells her with a smirk, like that was all the explanation that was needed. Billie rolls her eyes. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" she mutters under her breath. Negan chuckles. 

Standing up, she looks towards the hall with a thoughtful expression. "Benji drew some blood of his own before he went down.." she summarizes out loud. Negan hums in confirmation. "So which one of your boys is bleeding?" she asks, and he grins in a predatory way. "Let's find out, shall we?" 

~~~~

Back at the clinic, the long wait was really starting to grate on Daryl's nerves. It's been at least an hour since Billie left, and they had already been waiting two or three hours before that..

Still no news..

He wanted to get out of there. Even if just for a minute. To get away from the tacky beige walls, the stuffy air and the grim expressions. So he used the only excuse he could think of..

"I gotta go to the bathroom.." he announces quietly. His voice still sounds too loud in the otherwise silent room, and he ducks his head as everyone turns and looks at him.

"I'll take him. Need to stretch my legs anyhow.." Mac says tiredly, wincing as he puts weight on his bad knee when standing up. He waits for Daryl to reach his side before leading the way out into the maze of hallways that made up the clinic.

Mac pointed to the restrooms and went to sit on a bench close by, while Daryl went and did his business. As the old man sat down, the double-doors at the end of the hall swung open, and in walked the two Alphas. 

Billie was stonefaced as she walked beside Negan, who was strutting like the cocky bastard that he was. Mac never could stand the guy..

"Any word on Ben?" Billie asks as she stops in front of him. Mac shakes his head. "Nothing yet" he says calmly. "What have ya been up to? Find anything?" he wonders.

Billie sighs. "Sort of.." she says, briefly glancing over at Negan, who has walked on over to the clerk's desk and was flirting with some woman who worked with Doc. Rolling her eyes, she tells Mac that she'll keep him updated and walks off down the hall. Grabbing Negan's elbow on her way, and pulling him with her.

Daryl emerges from the restroom in time to see the last part, and frowns. 

"Don't you have enough wives already?" he hears Billie say exasperated. "Why, miss Mitchell.. Do I detect an ounce of jealousy?" Negan mocks her in an exaggerated fake Texan accent. ' _Such a charmer_..' he thought to himself. "I think you're confusing jealousy with _nausea_.." she replies, and Daryl's lips twitch in response.

~~~~

Billie tried her best to ignore Negan's antics, his flirting, his arrogance, his _everything_.. Because right now, the only thing she should be focusing on was finding Dex, the asshole that Simon told them he had sent to get stitches..

Simon said the guy looked like he had been in a war or something. And that made him suspect nr 1 in Billie's eyes.

She also knew that he had been one of Daryl's guards before she came back to the Sanctuary. The thought made her shudder, because she _knew_ what kind of man Dex was, and she had _seen_ the injuries on Daryl's face and body.. There was no doubt in her mind that at least _half_ of those were from this prick..

Negan had mercifully gone quiet since they began searching rooms in the clinic, at least he wouldn't give them away before they even found the guy.. 

The first handful of rooms they looked into were empty, but it soon became obvious why, when she heard Mac shouting from where she had left him, and something crashing..

She turns and runs..

~~~~

Once the Alphas were out of sight, Daryl relaxed his tense shoulders. Spotting a drinking fountain a few feet from him, he walks over and checks it to see if it's still working. It is, and it looks clean, so he bends down and drinks his fill.

Maybe that's why he doesn't hear him at first. At least not until Mac shouts; "Watch out!"

Daryl is more or less thrown into the wall, sliding down onto the floor with his ears ringing from the impact. Shaking his head he regains his bearings in time to see the guy who's grabbing him by his shirt and hauling him up off the floor.

He knows this guy. He was one of his guards before the Riders came. One of the cruel ones. He was the one who fucked up his eye and his ribs..

The Savior punches him and Daryl's sees double for a second, but recovers fast enough to duck underneath the next punch and grab the bastard around his middle, takling him to the floor.

Mac is shouting something at him, but he doesn't really hear it. Anger is coursing through him like a poison, dulling his senses. He just straddles the Savior and starts hitting him, again and again. Ignoring the sharp sting as his knuckles split against the man's jaw.

He wants to kill him. For all the pain, suffering and humiliation he's been through these past few months. For all the beatings, all the times they laughed as he tried to fight back, weak from starvation and outnumbered.

He lets it fuel him and pours it into every strike.. 

But all of a sudden, there's a _presence_ behind him. He feels it like a surge of electricity, sweeping up against his body, putting pressure on his neck and _commanding_ him to stop.

And he does, helpless to do anything else..

~~~

Barging through the doors and into the hallway, her fears are confirmed as she sees Dex punching Daryl in the face. But before she can even _think_ to help, she finds that he doesn't need it..

Daryl tackles the semi-large man to floor, sits on him and starts beating the living daylights out of him. His face the perfect image of pure rage..

But she can't let him kill Dex, because she still needs to find out who else was working with him. The man was too much of a coward to have done this on his own. 

So she charges forward, places herself at Daryl's back and wraps her fingers around his neck, squeezing hard enough to bruise.

" _ **Enough**_ " she commands, using her Alpha-voice on him, and he goes completely still.. But not _limp_ , like most Betas or Omegas do when she grabs them by the scruff..

Frowning in confusion, she uses her other hand to force his chin up towards her, exposing his changed eyes. And they're.. _Di_ _fferent_..

One is Beta Blue, but the other is _Alpha_ _Red_.. "Huh.. That explains a lot.." she says softly as she finally learns why Daryl always hides his eyes.. Unfortunately neither of them had heard the second Alpha come sauntering up behind them..

"You're shitting me.. He's a fucking _Mutt_??" Negan laughs gleefully, slapping his hands together with the biggest shiteating grin Billie's ever seen on him. She groans internally as Daryl visibly flinches at the name..

'Mutt' is an ugly derogatory term for people with mixed designation. It's a rare condition, where the person is essentially half and half. In Daryl's case, he's half Beta, half _Alpha_.

Ignoring Negan's stupid comment, she focuses on the archer, who's desperately trying to hide his face behind his hair. Dipping her chin to catch his eye, she lets out a soft purr to calm him. His eyes snap to hers then, in surprise or confusion, she can't tell which.

" _Hey_.. Can you behave for a minute? For me?" she asks, gently but sternly. He glares at her first, but then slowly nods his head, submitting. "Thank you.." she says quietly, and releases him.

In the very next second she catches Dex by the throat, lifting him one-handed up off the floor and slams him into the wall. His eyes were big as saucers as he realized just how screwed he was.

"You must be _all_ kinds of _stupid_...!" Billie snarls at the Savior, now choking under her fingers..


	7. Something Worth Saving

Daryl's mind was reeling as he watched Billie drag his attacker away. Negan was still smirking at him as he went to follow Billie, looking so fucking pleased with what had been revealed..

' _Mutt'..._

How he hated that word.. In the old world, that was all he was to people. Even his own kin had looked at him like he was something _dirty_ , something _less_ than human. His pa's solution was to try and beat it out of him. Like it was a demon that needed to be exorcised or some shit like that..

Some people were even afraid of him because of it. Too many bullshit stories about _feral_ _mutts_ out there. They'd take one look at him and reel backwards.. Hell, even Rick and Carol had flinched the first time they saw Daryl's true eyes..

' _But Billie didn't_ '.. a voice in his head said, and that gave him pause..

It was true. She _did_ _n't_.. She'd seemed a little surprised, but not really in a _bad_ way.. More like she had just suddenly discovered that he had _freckles_ or something. He even thought he heard her _purr_ for him while he was busy panicking over being exposed. But that couldn't be right.. He must've imagined it..

He couldn't help but think that now that they know, they won't be protecting him anymore.. He might be thrown back into his cell and never let out again.. Or worse, put back on fence-duty.. Or maybe they'd just kill him.. He didn't know, but his heart was pounding in his chest, and he wanted to _run_..

He didn't notice that Mac had walked up to him until the old man lightly grasped his arm. Daryl flinched, expecting to be hit, but Mac just gently guided him outside, telling him; "Come on, son. Let's get some air.."

They left the Alphas to do whatever they were going to do with Dex, and stepped outside. The rain had slowed considerably, there were only a handful of droplets coming down at a time now. And the streets were mostly quiet.

"Ya alright?" Mac asks, and he sounds like he actually _cares_. But he can't, Daryl thinks, because they _know_ now.. So he shakes his head, and the old man sighs.

"What do ya need?" he asks then, and Daryl doesn't understand _anything_ anymore. He wished they would stop playing these fucking _games_ with his head. Stop pretending to give a damn about him. He just wants to go _home_ , to his pack, to where he belongs..

He must've said some of it out loud, because Mac looks at him calmly and says; "Well, I ain't stoppin' ya.."

Daryl stares at him in disbelief. Is Mac serious? Would he let him leave? Just like that?

He wants his freedom so bad that he can almost taste it, and if this is his only chance, he'll _take_ it.. Heart in his throat and hands shaking, he turns towards where he knows the gates are and starts walking. 

"Ya won't make it very far though.." Mac drawls, and Daryl stops dead in his tracks. He hesitantly looks over his shoulder at the old man, who has a grave expression on his face. 

"I mean, _maybe_ ya get across camp. _Maybe_ ya even reach the wall. But then the Saviors will tear ya to pieces.." Mac tells him seriously.

"And even if ya get lucky, and ya somehow slip past _all_ of 'em.." he continues, stepping closer to where Daryl stands with his fists tightly clenched by his sides.

"The moment Negan finds ya missin', he'll burn Alexandria to the ground.. And there won't be a damn thing Bee can do to stop it.." Mac says as he comes to a stop in front of him. Daryl looks at the ground, his chest heaving with anger, fear, and just helpless frustration..

"See, I ain't out here with ya to keep ya from leavin'.. I'm here to keep ya from gettin' _killed_.." he says honestly, placing his hand on Daryl's shoulder, comforting him.

" _Why_?" Daryl asks, no, _pleads_.. It's the _one_ thing he just can't figure out. Why are they doing this? Why protect him at all? 

Mac squeezes his shoulder gently, his eyes full of sympathy.. "B'cause Billie thinks ya is somethin' worth savin'.. And so do I.." he confesses, and Daryl's eyes starts to water with those words. If Mac notices, he's wise enough not to say anything..

~~~~~~  
  


It was late afternoon by the time Billie stepped out of the Sanctuary's little makeshift interrogation-room. She thinks it might have been a meat-locker once, it sure smelled like one.. It was hidden away in a musty basement on the outskirts, far enough away from camp that nobody could hear the occational screams from inside..

Billie walked down to a small creek near by with heavy steps. It had been nothing but a huge waste of time, she thought as she kneeled beside the the water, washing the blood off of her hands. 

Dex had refused to talk no matter what they did to him.. Even Negan's Alpha-command hadn't worked on the bastard.. But at least he was dead now. He couldn't hurt anybody else..

Once her hands were reasonably clean, she shook off the excess water and headed back towards the gates of the Sanctuary. 

The men on the wall looked uneasy as they let her in, not so surprising considering that they had seen her and Negan drag a unconscious and bloody Dex between them earlier. 

But she didn't really give a fuck what they thought about any of it, she needed to get back to the clinic. There should be some news about Benji by now. She just hoped it was good news..

As she walked inside the waiting room, she smirked a bit as she saw Nate and Jimmy passed out in their chairs. Nate had his arms crossed and wore a grumpy expression, even in his sleep. Jimmy was more or less sprawled across his seat, mouth open and snoring softly. 

On the other side of the room, Mac and Oliver were talking quietly and hadn't noticed her yet. While in the furthest corner was Daryl, sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest, hands wrapped loosely around his legs. He looked up as she walked inside, eyes wary, but not as haunted as they had been earlier.

Mac finally sees her and straightens up, Oliver following suit. They both look exhausted, but alert. She thinks it's a little ironic that sitting still for a long time is somehow more tiring than doing something. But that's just the way it is.

"Any luck?" Mac asks as she reaches them. She shakes her head lightly. "He wouldn't talk" she tells him simply. He hums in response. "He dead?" he asks then, more seriously, and she nods. Mac mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like "Good riddance.." 

"How's Benji?" she asks, steeling herself for bad news. "Alive" Mac tells her tiredly, slumping back in his chair. "Doc says if he makes it through the night, he's got a fair chance.." he drawls.

Billie nods slowly as she takes in the information. A fair chance.. That's the best they could've hoped for, she supposes. But that doesn't make it any easier to hear.. Images of Benji's face flash through her mind again, and she shudders.

Needing something else to focus on, she turns her attention to Daryl, who's still sitting quietly in the corner. Her eyes do a quick scan of him, taking note of the bloodcrusted knuckles on his right hand and the red mark on his left cheek.

He tenses a bit when she comes closer, but doesn't lower his eyes as he usually does, just looks at her from behind his bangs.

"We should get that cleaned up.." she says gently, gesturing to his hand. Daryl blinks, and briefly looks down at the split skin as if he's only just noticing it now. 

"If you'll come with me?" she prompts, turning her body sideways to both give him space and a direction to go in.

He hesitates, but starts to rise slowly after a moment, his eyes shifting uneasily. She quietly guides him out into the hall, stopping by a small trolley on the way to snag some bandages she had seen earlier, before urging him towards the restroom.

It's your typical communal sort of bathroom, with four stalls and four sinks with adjacent mirrors, not much else. Daryl stays quiet and stiff as she gently maneuvers him in front of one of the sinks in the middle.

Up close like this, in such a small space, her scent is sharp and clear. It's actually the first time he's been able to smell her without any other scents interfering. Which is strange enough on it's own, because most Alphas have a very heavy and potent smell, loaded with pheromones and stuff, easily overpowering any other aroma. 

But Billie's scent is much more subtle, as if she's somehow holding it back.. It's something woodsy and fresh, with a strong hint of some kind of _fruit_. Peaches maybe.. He breathes it in discretely. Yeah, definitely peaches.. _It's nice_ , he thinks distracted.   
  


Billie turns on the water, and checks the temperature before reaching for his hand. Surprisingly, he lets her take it and guide it under the water. But she can feel his eyes on her face the whole time, as she carefully rubs the crusted blood off of his raw knuckles.

He doesn't as much as flinch, even though she knows it must sting a bit when she reaches the deeper areas of split skin. Instead he just stands completely still, staring at her. But when she turns her head and meets his eyes, he lowers them straight away, looking at the floor instead. Odd man..

Grabbing some paper towels, she gently dabs the damaged hand, drying it off as much as she dares to, before reaching for the bandages she brought in with her.

Finding the silence to be more than a little uncomfortable, she clears her throat softly and says; "I'm sorry about earlier today..". Daryl looks up then, frowning in silent question. "About going all _Alpha_ on you, I mean.." she clarifies as she starts to wrap his hand with well practiced movements.

"If you had killed Dex, I wouldn't have been able to question him about Benji.." she explains, then scoffs quietly to herself, muttering; "Not that it really mattered in the end..".

She pulls her knife from the holster on her hip and he tenses, but relaxes again when all she does is cut the gauze between his hand and the roll she soon tosses onto the sink, before putting her knife back in place.

Neatly tying off the bandage, she looks up and says; "All done"

Daryl experimentally wiggles his fingers to test the range of motion, and then nods his 'thanks' to her, once again starting to shift uneasily. He's never really been sure how to act around her, but even less so now, after his little chat with Mac earlier..

Since the day they met he had thought of Billie as his new _Warden._ Just another Alpha keeping him hostage in this place, even if she was a great deal _nicer_ about it.

But now he knew better.. Billie wasn't his _Warden_ , she was his _Protector_.. 

Mac had revealed that much, intentionally or not, when he said; _"I ain't out here with ya to keep ya from leavin'.. I'm here to keep ya from gettin' killed.."_

It made Daryl see her in a very different light. Because he understands now what she's been doing, and what she has been risking..

She's the _Queen_ , she can't be going around freeing the King's prisoners.. But she _can_ issue orders to make sure that he's not tortured or starved to death. She _can_ surround him with guards that she trusts, to keep him from being beaten or abused. And the garage she put him to work in just happens to be right underneath her _den_ , where she could keep a close eye on him..

Everything she has done since her return to the Sanctuary has been to _help_ him.. She has stuck her neck out several times now to protect a stranger.. He gets that now, even if he doesn't understand why she would care. Especially not now that she knows he's just a mutt.. But that doesn't seem to matter to her at all.. Not if her gentle handling of him is anything to go by..

"Thank you.." he says quietly, but clearer and more politely than he has spoken to her so far. He hopes that she can somehow read his gratitude in that, and judging by the way her eyes soften.. He reckons that she can..

~~~~~

When Doc finally allows Billie to see her new Beta, it's already past dawn the next day. He tells her that Benji will be unconscious for some time yet, but that he remains stable, at least so far. And that is a good sign, he says. Billie hopes that it is, because looking at the battered body lying motionless in the hospital bed, with all the wires and monitors attached to him, doesn't look all that _good_ to her eyes..

But she's grateful that they at least had the equipment to treat him. It hadn't been an easy task to locate and move all the machinery and medical supplies when they first started turning this old clinic into a functional hospital. But now she was glad that they had been able to.

She pushes a chair over to his bedside and sits down. Finding his bruised hand, she holds it gently, hoping that Benji can at least _feel_ that his Alpha is there. That she cares.

The helpers have cleaned him up, but his face still looks like a basket of half-crushed berries.. It's painful just to look at him. But she makes herself look anyway, wanting to edge it into her memory so she never forgets what they did to him, and how she failed to keep him safe..

She needs to, so it will never happen again. That's what the General taught her; _"Never look away, never ignore the ugly side of life, the consequences to your actions.. Face it head on, then learn from it.."_

As much of a hardass as her father was, he was a wise man. She misses him.. 

Time moves slowly as she sits there, watching Benji's chest rise and fall in uneven, no doubt painful breaths. She hasn't slept a wink since yesterday morning, but she barely even feels it, still too amped up over the attacks..

She doesn't want to lower her guard even for a second, not knowing when or where the next hit will strike. Because she knows it will come.. There's no doubt in her mind about that. She also knows that Dwight is behind this somehow.. 

That petty psychopath had been furious when she denied him access to Daryl. Like she had taken away his favorite _toy_ or something.. 

And Dex was always following him around like a damn puppy. He never did anything without Dwight's expressed permission.

But without proof Billie couldn't touch him. Not without starting a war with Negan, and that wouldn't end well for anyone..

No, she needed to be smart about this.. She needed a plan, something to flush out the roaches and giving her a shot at squashing them once and for all..

She did have one plan in mind, one card up her sleeve that she hadn't played yet, but it was risky.. Possibly even fatal.. But if it worked she could put an end to the attacks and maybe even grant a degree of freedom to a certain archer..

Her mind then wandered to blue eyes and broad shoulders that seemed to be carrying the whole world.. He had _thanked_ her yesterday.. She wasn't sure how to feel about that..

She had noticed how he watched her sometimes. Like he was constantly trying to figure her out. What he didn't know, was that she would watch him too..

At first it was just to make sure that he didn't try anything stupid. Like attack one of her Betas, or try to escape and get himself killed in the process. He was essentially her responsibility, and so it only made sense that she'd keep an eye on him.

But after a while she found herself watching him just to see if he was okay.. If he was being treated alright, that nobody bothered him too much.

Day after day, she watched as his bruises started to fade, as his eye cleared up and revealed the face she had known from her recon missions. 

There was no denying that he was a handsome man, maybe not in a conventional kind of way, but he was far from unattractive.. In fact, she thought he was sort of beautiful.. 

Mac seemed to have picked up on that, and had started to subtly tease her by referring to Daryl as " _her bowman_ ". He would jokingly say things like; " _Your bowman seems to doin' better.._ ", or " _Don't worry 'bout your bowman, we've got him covered_.."

It was really starting to get on her nerves.. 

Mac always found something to tease her about, it was sort of a game between them, as she would tease him too. Their way of showing affection, she supposed. But that doesn't mean that the old man's digs didn't annoy the hell out of her sometimes. 

Like the look he had given her yesterday after she had bandaged Daryl's hand. That look that said; " _Fixin' his boo-boo's now too?_ ".

It made her seriously consider just strangling the bastard.. Pack or not..

Daryl didn't seem to have noticed, thankfully. Last thing she needed was for him to get the wrong idea.

 _"Is it though? Is it the wrong idea.?"_.. a voice in her mind asked, one that sounded eerily like Mac. _"Yes!"_ she insisted, but a part of her was far from convinced.. 

She thought back to the day before, when she had grabbed him by the neck, and commanded him. The noticeable tingle in her fingers as they locked him into place. Then seeing his eyes.. 

If there was one thing that had persistently confused her about Daryl, it was how there seemed to be two _versions_ of him. There was the warrior, the hunter, the _protector_. But then there was the timid and shy, awkward man who didn't like to be seen or touched.

The two sides seemed completely at odds with each other, but somehow they were _both_ Daryl. Both versions made up the man. And when she saw his true eyes, she finally understood..

He actually looked scared when she saw them, and it tugged on her heart strings, because she knew _why_..

People could be so cruel.. To anything or _anyone_ that was different. When most humans are confronted with what they don't know or understand, they react either with fear or violence. And judging by how he had flinched in her grasp, she figured he had encountered plenty of both..

She knew what that was like..

Being a female Alpha, she had met her fair share of ignorance, hate and fear. And there had been many sleepless nights in her teenage years, where she had prayed to a God she didn't believe in.. Begging to be like everybody else, to be _normal_..

And in that moment, seeing that pain and fear reflected in his eyes, she had thought; "We're the same.."


	8. Quiet before the storm

The next few days seemed to pass quickly for Daryl as Mac put him to work on several small projects. With Benji out of commission, the garage was temporarily closed, and the old man decided to take on the role as Daryl's task-master for the time being.

He put him to work on things like fixing the clutch on Mac's truck, which had been acting up. Cleaning the impressive amount of guns the Riders had, not including any ammo of course, _that_ they kept him away from..

And today he was helping Nate and Jimmy fix up Benji's place. Billie wanted it to look nice for when the mechanic would be well enough to move back in. Daryl noticed that she said _when_ , not _if_ , and took some solace in that. They hadn't let anyone but Billie in to see him, so Daryl had no other source for updates on Benji's condition.

She said that he was doing as well as could be expected, but that didn't really tell him much. He didn't ask for more though. The few times he'd seen her in the last three days she had looked so tired and worn down..

Billie rarely left Benji's side, no _good_ Alpha would.. At least that's what Rick had told him when it was _Daryl_ lying injured on a bed, the Alpha had stayed with him until he was better.

" _It's instinct_ ," Rick had said, " _a member of your pack is wounded, weak.. As an Alpha, you just get this overwhelming urge to protect them. Keep them safe._."

From the looks of it, Billie was the same in that way. If she slept, she slept in the clinic. If she ate, she ate in the clinic. Never leaving Benji alone for more than 20 minutes at a time, tops.

She came out once or twice a day, to check on the rest of her Riders. Daryl noticed that she made sure to subtly touch them each time. A soft pat on Nate's shoulder, messing up Jimmy's hair, leaning against Mac's side or stroking Ollie's cheek in passing. An Alpha scent-marking her pack.

But she never touched _him_.. Not that he _wanted_ her to. He wasn't pack. He was surrounded by Riders, but he wasn't one of them.. Daryl was more like one of those political prisoners from the old world. Guarded 24/7, not allowed to leave, but treated well enough.

The hierarchy of the Riders was easy enough to spot. Nate and Mac were Billie's Seconds in command. Her Warrior and her Counselor. Oliver, or _Ollie_ as they called him, was next in line. Her own personal _MacGyver_ , as he could fix pretty much anything she needed him to. Radios, jammed rifles, generators, whatever. You name it, and he could fix it.

Jimmy was the youngest, and they treated him almost like a " _cub_ " in some ways. He was a bit of a joker, constantly pulling pranks on his elders, always with a cheeky grin on his face. But he was also very sweet-natured and kind. Daryl found it impossible to dislike him, to dislike _any_ of them, though he tried..

It would just be easier if he _didn't_ like them.. 

"Hey Daryl? Can you help me with this?" Jimmy asked as he tried to lift the torn up leather sofa. Daryl nodded and grabbed the other end, and together they maneuvered the sofa up and out, placing it outside. 

Jimmy and Ollie never ' _ordered_ ' him to do anything, they always ' _asked_ '. Benji didn't really either. It was always " _Can you_?" and " _Would you please?_ ". It confused him at first, but now he was starting to get used to it. ' _Orders_ ' came from Mac, Nate and sometimes Billie. But never the rest. 

It was a little odd, but then so many things about the Riders _were_.. So he just sort of shrugged it off. 

They had just about emptied half of the small apartment now. All broken and torn up items and furniture were tossed outside, to be hauled off in Mac's truck later on. Nate said it would be replaced, and that they had a makeshift storage unit for this kind of thing. 

Mac was standing by the door outside, shotgun resting on his shoulder, eyes sharp and vigilant. It was obvious that they expected more trouble to come, they just didn't know when or where..

The old man was talking on the radio with Billie when Daryl and Jimmy carried the sofa out. "Yeah, got him right here.." he says, then looks at Daryl, narrow blue-grey eyes keeping him in place.

"Benji's awake. Bee says he wants to see ya" he tells him. Daryl shifts uneasily. Realizing that Mac is waiting for a reply, he nods. If Benji wants to see him, he'll go. Mac brings the radio back to his lips. "I'll bring him up" he says, before gesturing to Daryl that they should go now. 

"I'll take watch" Jimmy says with a hand on his gunbelt. Mac nods in acknowledgement and walks off with Daryl. 

Billie meets them in the hallway of the clinic, looking tired but a little more hopeful. Benji has been in and out of consciousness for days, but this is the first time he's been alert and talking. It's a very good sign.

"He looks like hell and he sounds like a dying crow, but he's awake.." she greets them with, and Mac chuckles. Daryl fidgets with his hands, not really sure why Benji would want to see him, but thinks he owes him that much. The man basically got attacked just for being _friendly_ to him, so it's the least he can do..

"You ready?" Billie asks calmly, and Daryl nods, following her inside while Mac stays behind.

The room is big, white and sterile-looking, which only makes the bed seem smaller, along with the man in it. Benji stirs when the door closes behind them, and opens one of his eyes, the other was hidden under the bandages wrapped around his head. 

Most of his torso was wrapped up too, with some wires poking out, hooked up to a monitor that beeps in a steady rhythm.

Daryl swallows hard as he looks him over. The man looks like he's been hit by a truck, repeatedly..

"You believe me now?" Billie asks Benji, gesturing towards Daryl, who frowns in confusion. She snorts. "He asked if you were okay, but didn't believe me when I said you were" she explains with exasperated fondness. Daryl raises an eyebrow at that.

"They said he.. was next.." Benji croaks, wheezing with every word, then looks at Daryl with such honest _relief_. "Thought they.. got you.." he finishes, coughing roughly. Billie fills a glass of water from a pitcher next to him, and gently lifts his head to help him drink.

He manages a few sips, then pushes the glass away. Daryl steps closer to the bed with a pained look on his face as Billie lowered Benji's head back onto the pillow.

"Nah, man.. I'm fine" he tells him, feeling a lump forming in his throat at seeing warmth and concern in Benji's eye, directed at _him_.

It was clear to him now, that Benji had really been worried for him. That even as the mechanic had been fighting for his _life_ , he had worried about _Daryl_..

"I'm _sorry_.." Daryl says suddenly, "It shoulda been _me_. I'm what they want.." he says, starting to choke up. But Benji turns his head from side to side slowly. "Not your.. fault.." he wheezes, dead serious. 

Daryl ducks his head and stays quiet, not trusting his voice at that moment. He feels rough fingers at his wrist, and grabs the offered hand, keeping his grip light so not to cause his friend any more pain. Because there's no doubt in his mind anymore that Benji really is his _friend_..

Even before Billie and her pack showed up, Benji had been the one who occationally left a sandwich or something in Daryl's path whenever he was made to pick up trash. Never spoke to him or anything. Hell, Daryl hadn't even known his name, but those little gestures were probably why he didn't starve death.. 

How could he have ever thought of Benji as an _enemy_..? 

Forcing himself to calm down, he looks at the man he owes so much to, and puts on a slight smile. "So, how ya doin' man?" he asks, wincing at how stupid that question was. But Benji wheezes out a laugh, his eye sparkling with humor. "Not bad.. Kickass drugs.." he croaks, and Daryl snorts in response.

Billie chuckles lightly from the other side of the bed. "Mhm, they got him on oxy. A pretty heavy dose too.." she tells Daryl with an easy smile that he's never seen on her before. It's warm and tender, like an amused mother shaking her head at a childs foolishness.

He feels a strange _swooping_ sensation in his gut when he sees it, which confuses him..

"Doc says he should be fine though, he just needs to rest" Billie adds reassuringly. Daryl hums in reply, but doesn't look at her this time. Instead he focuses on Benji, who seems to be tiring already. Although, with all the drugs in his system, it's hardly surprising..

"What about those who did this?" he asks quietly, side-eyeing her. Her jaw tightens as she meets his gaze. "I'll get them" she says firmly, the promise unmistakable in her tone.

Daryl nods, satisfied. "Good" he says.

~~~~

The clinic was fairly quiet in the afternoon. Benji had fallen asleep again, and Daryl had left with Mac, going back to working on fixing up Benji's place. 

As for Billie, she was exhausted..

The days and nights spent watching over her Beta was really starting to catch up with her. The Alpha had barely slept at all since the attack. What little sleep she _did_ get was whenever she'd doze off sitting by Benji's side, in what she hesitates to call a _chair_. According to her back it was more like a torture device..

Lost in thought, she idly watched the stuttered movements of Benji's chest rising and falling. It would probably be weeks until he could breathe normally again. Having broken a few ribs herself once or twice, she didn't envy him the slow recovery ahead of him.

Still, he was lucky to be alive at all..

She was sure that Dwight must be kicking himself over leaving Benji alive. Her Beta had confirmed her suspicions, he told her that the men wore masks, but he could pick out several by scent alone, and they were definitely Dwight's men. 

But Billie also knew that it wasn't enough evidence to present to Negan. Not enough for him to allow her to take her revenge at least. 

It didn't really matter anyway. This was never going to be a thing that got solved through pack politics..

Besides, Billie had her own plans for how to _deal_ with Dwight. One that she had already set in motion with quiet orders in the night..

Now, all she could do was wait, and hope the shitstorm ahead wouldn't cause any more harm to her Riders. Or to Daryl..


End file.
